


Our Hearts March to the Same Beat

by bilexualclarke (ohalaskayoung)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bilingual Bellamy Blake, Canon Bisexual Character, Character Death, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pansexual Character, Parenthood, Pegging, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Squirting, Sub!Clarke, also there are guide dogs, bellamy likes it up the butt, blind!Clarke, dom!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 43,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohalaskayoung/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Bellarke prompts submitted to me on tumblr, smutty and sweet and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stress Relief

**prompt:** "Lexa assumes Clarke and Bellamy are lovers and suggests to him that Clarke needs some … stress relief because she's wound so tight..."

* * *

Clarke storms out of Lexa’s cabin with her jaw set tight and her fists clenched. Bellamy jumps and moves to follow her because he was totally just in the area and  _not at all_  lurking around the cabin waiting for her and-

“Bellamy.” Lexa appears at the doorway and nods her head inside. He follows her warily, sparing one last glance towards the angry blonde storming away. He had barely interacted directly with the Commander and had no idea what she’d say to him.

One of her guards closed the door behind him. Lexa took a seat and plucked her knife from the armrest of her chair and began to swirl it absentmindedly.

“Clarke is unfocused,” she tells him. “She is worrying too much about things that are irrelevant and cannot adequately put her mind to the task at hand.”

“She’s doing her best,” Bellamy says immediately. Lexa’s lips quirk up in a small smirk. 

“No, she isn’t. She’s stressed and it’s only going to harm us. She needs to relax.’”

“Okay…” Bellamy said, unsure of where this was going. “I’ll take her patrol shift tonight, then. So she can get some rest.”

Lexa shook her head, the smirk still in place. “She’s wound too tightly to sleep. What she needs is a…relief, of sorts.”

The guard behind her chair- Indra, Bellamy remembers her name to be- snorts. 

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” he says, exasperated. “What do you suggest I do?”

“You’re lovers, are you not?” Lexa asks. “Do as lovers do.”

* * *

 

He walks numbly from the cabin, almost bumping into Miller on his way back to the makeshift tent he had set up in the village. 

_Lovers._

Him and Clarke.

He’d be lying to himself if he’d said he’d never thought about it. The attraction was there, sure. He admired Clarke, respected her. They had grown closer than ever in the past few months, and he could see why Lexa could have assumed that there was something more between them. But there wasn’t.

He stops when he is hit with the sudden realization that he wants there to be.

Bellamy turns suddenly and heads for Clarke’s tent. She’s pacing when he walks in, worry lines drawing creases on her forehead and her lips moving faintly as she mutters to herself. 

“Hey,” he says lamely when she looks up at him. 

“Hi,” Clarke says with a sigh, flopping onto her makeshift mattress and flinging her arm over her face. The bottom of her shirt rides up, exposing the pale skin of her abdomen. Bellamy gulps.

“You seem stressed,” he stammers out. Clarke snorts from beneath her arm.

“Do I?”

“You know…” Bellamy tentatively takes a seat on the edge of her mattress. “I-I could help with that. If you want.”

Clarke moves her arm to peak out at him. “What do you have in mind?”

“Come here.” He motions for her to sit in front of him, her back to his chest. She sits up slowly and moves between his legs. 

“What are you going to do?”

“Just trust me,” he says, willing his hands not to shake. “And try to relax, Princess.”

He gently removes the worn string he had been using to tie her hair back and hands it to her to wrap around her wrist, knowing that they are hard to come by and she wouldn’t want to lose it. Then he shakes out her hair so it falls freely over her tense shoulders. Starting at the top of her head, he begins to rub his fingers against her scalp, between the strands. Once in a while he’ll use his nails to scratch her lightly, and he swears he hears her hiss. 

After thoroughly massaging her head, he moves down to her shoulders, which have slackened considerably by now. Bellamy used his thumbs and the heel of his hand to work the knots out from beneath her skin.

 _“Ohhh_ ,” Clarke groans when he presses down particularly hard. Bellamy stops automatically, fearing that he hurt her.

"Sorry! I didn’t mean t-”

“Don’t stop!” Clarke practically screams. “I-I mean, it felt good. So, yeah. You, uh, you don’t have to stop.”

Gulping, he continues his ministrations. Clarke relaxes more and more until she’s practically slumped against him. He’s working down her arms now, and he’s praying desperately that he doesn’t pop a boner with the sounds she’s making. That would be the last thing he needs.

“You’re good with your hands,” she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed. Bellamy stills. 

This was his chance.

Taking a deep breath, he ducked down so his lips were at her ear. “I can be better,” he whispers. “Can I show you?”

Clarke’s breath hitched. She doesn’t open her eyes, but after a minute, she nods. 

Almost shaking with relief, Bellamy removes his hands from her arms and pull her up slightly, so her head rests on his shoulder. Then he moves slowly, trailing one hand down the length of her torso until he reaches the button of her pants. She stops breathing when he pops it open and slips his hand under the waistband. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy chokes out. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”

“I never do,” she replies lightly, and his eyes roll back in his head. “Makes your job easier, doesn’t it?”

He swears under his breath and moves his fingers lower until he brushes the soft curls above her sex. Clarke gasps when he runs his middle finger over her slit, gathering the embrassing amount of wetness that has accumulated there. Bellamy makes a strange sound in the back of his throat.

When his fingers find the bundle of nerves that are the key to her release, Clarke’s hands fly up, one gripping his neck and the other clenched tightly around his right bicep. Bellamy circles her clit slowly at first, and when her hips start moving on their own accord, desperate for friction, he increased the tempo. 

Clarke turns her face into Bellamy’s neck to muffle her whimpers when he slips a long finger inside of her, pumping it in and out of her and using the heel of his palm to rub her clit.

“Oh my God,” she cries, her back suddenly arching. “Bellamy! Oh, I-I’m going to-”

“That’s right,” he whispers, kissing her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. “Come for me, Clarke. Come all over my fingers. That’s it, that’s my girl.”

Her orgasm hits her hard, and she lets out a strangled scream. Bellamy slips his fingers from her pussy but continues to rub her clit softly and slowly as she comes back down to Earth. 

“Still stressed?” he asks after a few minutes of her breathing heavily and staring at the back of her eyelids. 

“About what?” she breathes, finally opening her eyes. Clarke moves off him and collapses facedown onto the mattress. Bellamy chuckles. His erection is almost painful now, but he figures he’ll take care of it on his own once he’s back in his tent.

“Glad I could help, Princess.” He moves to stand. “Have a good night.”

“Wait!” Clarke rolls so she’s laying on her side. Her face is still flushed from her orgasm, her pants unbuttoned and riding low on her hips. “‘Your girl’, huh?“

Had he called her that? Shit, he hadn’t even realized. “Oh, uh, well-” Bellamy stammers. 

"I like it,” she says, grinning. “Now, you should get back over here.”

Bellamy can’t help the smirk that finds it way to his face. “Why should I do that, Princess?”

Clarke grins and bites her bottom lip playfully. “You’re looking a little stressed.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	2. Rebellion

**prompt:** "Abby doesn't approve of Bellamy (thinks he's too old and a bad influence) and Clarke is feeling rebellious."

* * *

“You’re not listening to me, Clarke,” Abby Griffin protested.

Her daughter rolled her eyes and stood up from the table. “No, Mom,  _you’re_  not listening to me. I don’t understand why you insist on treating me like a child.”

“Because you are one, Clarke!” The Chancellor slammed her hands on the table. “I know you think otherwise, but you’re wrong.”

“You sent me here to die, Mom,” Clarke said, her voice eerily cool. “But I didn’t. I survived. I helped set up a camp, I gained the trust of the rest of the  _children_  you sent to die. I’ve negotiated treaties and fought in wars and I’ve  _killed_. Does that seem childish to you, Mom?”

Abby sighed and rubbed her temples. Clarke plowed on.

“He’s been by my side through all of that. Without him, none of the good we’ve done would have been possible.”

“He’s five years older than you,” Abby tried weakly. “He  _shot_  Thelonious, Clarke. He aided his mother in hiding an illegal child- a crime he  _should_   _have_  been floated for-”

Her words were cut off as her daughter smacked her across the face. When she looked up, clutching her cheek in shock, Clarke only smirked.

“What are you going to do? Float me?”

Abby collapsed into her chair at the table as Clarke turned and headed for the door. She didn’t look back until the last second.

“And Mom? I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

The door slammed behind her, and Abby flinched at the sound.

Clarke stomped across camp to where Bellamy was helping volunteers bring in lumber from the woods. When he saw her approaching, he motioned for the man on the other end of the log to put it down. The wood had barely touched the ground before she had launched herself at him.

He stumbled back at first, but then his hands came up to grip the backs of her thighs and her legs wrapped around his waist. She kissed him hungrily, as if they had been apart for years. He responded in kind, but then pulled back suddenly.

“I thought you didn’t want to tell people yet.” His eyes moved over her shoulder to where her mother stood outside of what remained of the Ark, her cheek red and starting to swell. “I thought-”

“I thought wrong,” Clarke said with a smile. “I don’t care what people think. I love you, Bellamy, and I want everyone to know.”

Bellamy kissed her three times, each press of their lips a whisper.  _I. Love. You._

“Sounds good to me, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	3. Acid Fog

**prompt** : "Bellamy and Clarke get stuck in a cave or bunker (because of the acid fog), Bellamy strips down before going to sleep and Clarke is very much tempted by what she's seeing. "

* * *

 

They hear the horn before they see the fog. Clarke is bent over a log, examining the moss growing underneath it and Bellamy is absolutely standing guard and  _not_  staring at the curve of her ass. The low bellow of the horn shocks them both, and he grabs her and hauls her up without a second thought.

“We’ll never make it back to camp in time,” Clarke pants as they run through the forest. The ugly mustard yellow mist drifts into their line of vision and Bellamy swears. 

“Over here!” He grabs her elbow and drags her to the right. The fog is gaining on them, and Bellamy is nervous that they aren’t going to find it in time when suddenly they’re in front of a door. Clarke races forward and tries to pull it open but it won’t budge. The fog is nearly on them as Bellamy takes ahold of it and yanks it hard, and it swings open an inch.

 _“Fuck!”_  he yells as the fog brushes his back. The door opens another inch or two and he shoves Clarke inside. The fog sizzles the already frayed fabric of his shirt and burns his skin. Practically leaping through the door, he makes quick work of his clohes and Clarke swings the metal contraption shut. 

“Did it touch you?” he asks as he’s shimmying out of his ruined pants. Clarke slumps  against the door, eyes closed and breathing heavily. She shakes her head, and Bellamy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“What about you- OH.” Clarke opens her eyes to find Bellamy stripped down to his underwear, his clothes singed to rags by his feet. He smirks at her dumbfounded expression.

“Lose your train of thought, Princess?”

Clarke comes back to Earth, lost for a second in the taut lines of muscle in his abdomen. “Uh, are you burned anywhere? Does anything hurt?”

“Nope. My clothes got the worst of it.” Bellamy looks down at the pile and then back up at her, his smirk growing. “Shame.”

Clarke scoffs, pushing past him and getting a better look at her surroundings. “Where are we anyway?” she asks as she digs a flashlight out of her pack. It illuminates the dimly light room with a touch of a button.

“The abandoned parking garage where we found Lincoln,” Bellamy explains. “Come on, there’s an old van down that way that we can sit in to wait this out. It’s more comfortable than the concrete.”

He leads her over to the car and muscles open the sliding door so she can climb inside. The air in the garage suddenly takes on a chill, and within moments of climbing into the van their breath is appearing in clouds before them.

“Check around,” Bellamy instructs her. “There might be something laying around that we could use for warmth.”

They dig under the seats and rifle through compartments but are unable to come up with anything of any use. Bellamy’s teeth start to chatter and Clarke slides closer to him.

“Take my jacket,” she says, starting to shrug it off. Bellamy stops her.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m fine. I’m used to the cold. Power used to go out in my station all the time.”

Clarke frowned. “We’re not on the Ark anymore, Bellamy. You need to warm up.”

“Is the sight of me half-naked that much of a bother to you, Princess?” he tries to joke. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Bellamy. Please cover up so I won’t jump your bones.”

“You know, body heat is way more effective than just a jacket…” Bellamy trails off suggestively. “I’ve seen the looks you give me, Princess. The ones when you think I can’t see.”

“Oh, yeah?” Clarke breathed, acutely aware of the fact that he was leaning closer and she could just about count the freckles on his cheeks. “What kind of looks do you think I’m giving you?”

Bellamy smirked. “The same ones I give you.”

Clarke’s heart lurches, and she looks away.  _Damn him. Damn Bellamy Blake. Damn Bellamy Blake and his freckles and his muscles and how he makes me feel._

“You-you seem awfully sure of yourself for someone who barely has any clothes on,” she manages to say, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. His hand comes up to cup her chin and gently turn her face toward him.

“Do you want me to cover up?” Bellamy asks seriously. He looks down at her lips and then back up to her eyes.

“No,” Clarke whispers, and that’s all it takes for his mouth to descend onto hers. Clarke wraps her arms around his shoulders and clutches herself to him, flinching slightly at his frigid skin. If it bothers him, he doesn’t show it, too busy kissing her so hard her toes curl.

“You’re right,” she says when they pull apart for air, resting her forehead against his.

“About?”

It’s her turn to smirk now.

“Using body heat is a way more effective way to warm up.” Clarke pulls back a bit so she can shrug out of her jacket. Her fingers toy with the hem of her thin shirt, exposing a sliver of her pale, smooth skin.

Bellamy licks his lips. “Well, I’m freezing.”

Clarke laughs and finally pulls the shirt over her head. Bellamy is on top of her in an instant, making quick work of the rest of her clothes. He kisses her exposed skin reverently as each article of clothing is removed, and before she can even touch him he uses his tongue and fingers to drive her over the edge.

“Get over here,” she pants as she recovers from her orgasm. With a wolfish grin, he kisses up her body until he reaches her lips. Clarke moans at the taste of herself on his tongue as he kisses her. She notes that his body has warmed up considerably, though the air still has a slight chill.

“You still want to do this?” he asks as she wraps her legs around his waist.

In response, she reaches down and shoves his underwear down his legs. Her hand lightly brushes his thigh on its way up his body, and when she reaches his throbbing cock, she wraps her tiny hand around it and squeezes lightly.

Bellamy groans and bucks into her grip.

“Now, Bellamy,” Clarke whispers, reaching up to kiss along the exposed skin of his neck. Not needing any further invitation, he enters her slowly, letting her adjust. Then he starts thrusting slowly, barely moving his hips. Clarke’s legs tighten around his waist, bringing them closer together.

“More,” she says after a few moments. Bellamy grins, and starts to fuck her in earnest, not holding back. His thrusts are fast and hard, and soon the windows of the car are tinted with steam and they are both covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“ _Oh_ , Bellamy,” Clarke cries out suddenly. He feels the walls of her pussy clench around him, and he reaches down to rub her clit. “Shit! I’m coming! I’m c-”

Her words are cut off as she throws her head back in a silent scream. The feeling of her orgasm around his cock is too much, and Bellamy follows suit only seconds later, releasing inside of her with a low groan. He collapses on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, feeling the erratic flutter of her pulse as she slowly comes back to Earth.

After, Bellamy is the first to speak.

“Well, I’m warmer than I’ve ever been now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	4. Joe Jonas

**prompt:** "Bellamy and Clarke christen her childhood bedroom."

* * *

“No way,” Bellamy laughed when Clarke opened the door. She flushed a brilliant shade of red and ducked her head. 

“So I went through a phase. Big deal.”

“A Jonas Brothers phase,” Bellamy scoffs, eying the posters on the wall. “Didn’t you stay here until you were eighteen?”

“I got too busy to redecorate!” Clarke said defensively, shoving her boyfriend playfully. After almost a year together, they finally decided to brave the trip to visit her parents in Ark, Virginia. The house was small and just as she remembered leaving it almost four years ago, especially her childhood bedroom. 

“Let me guess. Nick was your favorite?” Bellamy said, strolling forward to investigate the poster above her bed. Clarke closed the door behind them.

“Joe, actually. I guess I’ve always liked the bad boy type.” She nudged his hips with hers. “I’m surprised you know their names.”

Bellamy draped his arm over her shoulders. “Hey, O was a big fan. It took me two years to get ‘Burnin’ Up’ out of my head.”

Clarke chuckled. “I loved that one!”

” _I’m burnin’ up, burnin’ up, for you, baby_!” Bellamy crooned, his voice cracking a bit at the end. Clarke busted out laughing, and Bellamy took advantage of her lack of defenses and droped both hands to her sides, tickling her sensitive skin through the fabric of her thin shirt.

“Bellamy! Bellamy, stop!” Clarke wheezed through giggles as he attacked her. At some point she lost her footing, and they both tumbled onto her bed, breathless with laughter. He shifted so he was above her, propping himself up on his elbows on each side of her head. Her laughter faded into short pants, and he grinned.

“You think your parents are asleep yet?” he murmured, dipping his head down to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along the side of her neck. Clarke hissed and arched into his touch. 

“P-probably,” she stuttered as he began to unbutton her blouse, revealing her navy blue bra. “But I-”

“You what?” Bellamy kissed the swell of her breasts as his hands slid up and under her skirt. 

“I can’t have sex with you with a Jonas Brothers poster right in front of my face!” she hissed.

Bellamy arched a brow, trying and failing to bite back a grin. “Well,” he said, his fingers curling over the band of her underwear and pulling it down her legs, “I guess we just won’t have sex then.”

Before she could say anything else he pushed her up on the bed so that his head was at her waist. Pushing the material of her skirt up on her hips, he ducked down to press a kiss to her newly exposed skin. He inhaled the heady scent of her arousal and groaned.

“Bellamy,” she whined. He waited, but she didn’t stop him. Grinning, he used his index and middle finger to part her folds and gave her dripping slit one long lick. 

Clarke slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her moan.

He ate her feverishly, as if it was the last thing he was ever going to do. He alternated between tonguing figure eights over her clit to fucking her with his tongue, sinking it into her hot cunt and lapping up her delicious juices. As she chased after her climax she began to grind on his face, and he moaned.

“That’s right, baby, fuck my face.” He gave her clit one long, hard suck that had her writhing like crazy. “Come all over my tongue. Come for me baby.”

Clarke’s orgasm hit her hard, waves of pleasure rolling over her ceaselessly. Bellamy didn’t stop his ministrations until she weakly shoved him away, the stimulation growing to be too much. Then she laid there, boneless and sated, on top of her bed, trying to catch her breath. 

“Think Joe could’ve done that?” Bellamy said with a satisfied smirk, his mouth and chin shining with her wetness. 

“Joe who?” Clarke panted before sitting up and crashing her lips to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	5. Boss

**prompt:** "Bellamy secretly loves it when Clarke orders him around."

* * *

It’s no secret that Bellamy is the dominant, alpha male of the camp. He barks orders that people follow without question and when he enters a room everyone falls silent. He is listened to and respected by all, and in some ways he really is a king.

But what is a king without his queen?

“Harder,” Clarke commands, her nails raking across the exposed skin of his back. 

He complies without question, grabbing her right leg and throwing it over his shoulder so he could thrust deeper inside of her. Clarke let out a low, guttural moan and arched her back.

It’s one of the things that initially attracted him to her. They way Clarke doesn’t take any of his shit, the way she pushes him and gets under his skin. Everyone listens to him, except when she’s around. No one disobeys Clarke Griffin.

Not even Bellamy Blake.

“Roll over,” she says next. He complies immediately, wraping his arms around her waist so they stay connected and flopping onto his back. She rides him wildly, her head thrown back and her perfect tits bouncing in his face. She’s the closest thing to perfect he’s ever seen.

Her deep moans turn into breathy pants. “Kiss me,” she tells him, and when he leans up to join their lips he sneaks his right hand between them. He bites on her lower lip the same time his fingers brush over her sensitive clit.

“Fuck!” she cries as the first waves of her orgasm rush over her. She still rides him, albeit a bit less gracefull, and fists her fingers in his dark curls. Her eyes are wild when she says, “Come  _now_.”

No one disobeys Clarke Griffin.

After they are both utterly spent, and the only sound in their tent is Clarke’s steady breaths as she sleeps, Bellamy brushes a blonde curl from her face and kisses the tip of her nose.

“I love it when you boss me around, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	6. Caught

**prompt:** "Getting caught by Lexa was something the kids were never going to let Clarke and Bellamy live down."

* * *

Since separating from Camp Jaha and creating a society oftheir own, the young, former-Arkers had grown used to seeing Grounders in their camp. Their alliance had grown stronger and, without the threat of prejudiced violence from those at Camp Jaha, the Grounders had felt more comfortable intermingling. However, it was very rare that their Commander made the journey. It was only for very special occasions that Lexa crossed the boundaries and into Bellamy and Clarke’s camp, which was why Octavia, sitting by the fire, was so surprised to see her strolling through their gates early one morning.

“Octavia.” The Commander greeted her with a small smile. “I thought you were at Tondc with Lincoln.”

“I was,” Octavia said as she sharpened her sword. “But I missed my brother and Clarke wanted to show me what some plant does or something, so I came back last night.”

“I see.” Lexa looked around. The sun had just risen, and not many people had emerged from their cabins- a new, hard-earned addition to the camp. “Your brother and Clarke. Where are they now?”

“In their cabin,” Octavia told her absentmindedly, running her finger over a scratch in the metal. “The big one to your right.”

Lexa nodded and started in that direction.

Octavia continued to sharpen her weapon, humming a tune as she worked. A couple people began to emerge from their quarters and started milling

about the camp. Miller sat next to her by the fire and wordlessly offered her a  
cup of water. She thanked him with a small smile and took a sip, which she  
immediately spit out the moment she heard her brother scream.

_“What the fuck?”_

Octavia jumped up, sword in hand, and raced to Bellamy and Clarke’s cabin. Miller was hot on her heels, and soon the rest of the camp was following them to the source of the yell.

Lexa was coming around the corner and nearly smacked into the youngest Blake. Her face was drawn but her eyes wide, like she had seen something scarring. Octavia had seen that look before, but normally on other people in the camp who had stumbled into the wrong tent at the wrong time-  _Oh._

“Holy shit,” Octavia breathed. Lexa blinked, finally realizing she was there.

“What is it?” Miller looked back and forth between the two women, not understanding. “What happened?”

“Lexa!” They looked up and saw Clarke rushing towards them, and Bellamy followed soon after. Clarke’s hair was a mess and her face was flushed, and her shirt was on backwards. Upon closer inspection, Octavia noted that it wasn’t even her shirt. She had sewn that very one of Bellamy’s countless times before. 

“I can’t believe this.” Octavia threw her head back and cackled. “This is too good.”

 _“What?!?_ " Miller practically exploded. Octavia gestured to Bellamy, who was trying to discreetly button his pants.

"Octavia, don’t-” Bellamy warned.

“Nothing hap-” Clarke tried to say.

“LEXA CAUGHT THEM  FUCKING!” Octavia yelled, clapping her hands together excitedly. Lexa turned away, Clarke hid her face in her hands, and Bellamy rolled his eyes so hard that his whole body moved. 

“Nice,” he said through gritted teeth. “Thanks, Octavia. I was worried the camp would never find out.”

O grinned wickedly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they never forget it, either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	7. T-Shirt

**prompt:** "Bellamy sees Clarke wearing one of his t-shirts and it does things to him."

* * *

“We’re going to need to double the amount of lumber we’re bringing in if we’re going to have enough to survive the winter,” Miller was telling him.

Bellamy glanced across the camp at the dwindling stack of logs with a grimace. “I know. I’ll try to talk to Kane tomorrow.”

It was Miller’s turn to grimace. “Good luck.”

It’s not that Kane was the problem- he was actually trying to be more open-minded and listen to the so-called “delinquents” that he’d originally condemned to die. The problem was that he ultimately reported to the Chancellor, who was Abby Griffin, and Abby Griffin didn’t like Bellamy Blake. At. All.

Bellamy couldn’t think of Abby for long without thinking of her daughter. It wasn’t uncommon; the latter Griffin was almost always on his mind. Since returning from Mount Weather two months ago, they had been inseparable.

“Oh, Look,” Miller said, looking at something over Bellamy’s shoulder with a smirk. “Your princess awakes.”

Bellamy turned and saw Clarke emerging from their tent. Her hair was slightly mussed from sleep and she brushed it from her face as she yawned. The early morning sun sent a glare into her line of vision, and when she turned and raised a hand to block the rays Bellamy was able to fully appreciate what she was wearing.

His shirt.

_His shirt?_

It was an old one. Black, with tiny holes in the underarms. He had been wearing it last night before she had practically ripped it from his body. The sight of her in it, the material stretching slightly over her chest, stirred something inside of him.

Bellamy clapped Miller on the shoulder and started jogging towards her.

“Hey, where are you going?” Miller called after him.

“To put the princess back to bed,” he yelled over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	8. Exhibitionists (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part I of III installments. Enjoy!

**prompt:** "Clarke always watches this exhibitionist jerk himself off on line but she never sees his face, just the same shirt of some band called the 100 with a little tear at the bottom. Then one day, while she's at the bar, she's served by a guy wearing that exact same shirt with the same year and everything. If you can, fit some smut in some way please!"

* * *

 

He’s become an fixture in her life and she’s never even seen his face. 

Every Tuesday and Thursday night, at aproximately 10pm, Clarke Griffin logs onto an online sex forum and gets off to watching others do the same. It’s a kink she learned she was into during her sophomore year at Mount Weather University, after waking up in the middle of the night to the sounds of her roommate and boyfriend having sex not even ten feet away from her. It became a frequent thing, them going at while they thought she was asleep, and although Clarke didn’t particularly like either of them, she found that watching them was one of the hottest things she had ever seen.

So now it’s Thursday night and the clock reads 9:45. Clarke is in the bathroom of her tiny one-bedroom apartment, brushing her teeth and humming to herself. She slips out of her clothes and into her pajamas, then pulls her blonde curls into a loose bun. By the time she sets up her laptop and arranges the pillows on her bed just the way she likes them, it’s 9:59. 

Time for the show to begin.

It starts the same every time. The screen is black for a few moments, then it flickers to life and he takes a seat in front of the camera. He wears the same shirt every time, a black tee that shows off his delicious arm muscles. _The 100_ is written across the chest, with the words “Farewell Tour 2012” inscribed underneath it, and there’s a small tear on the bottom left side. 

He never shows his face.

Clarke sometimes wishes he would. She can gather that he’s tall, and built. His skin is fairly tanned, so she can pretty much guess that his hair is dark. His physique seems pretty great, but it’s cock that is the true beauty.

Not a dick, no. Dicks belong to teenage boys and gross men. This man, his member long and thick with a vein just below the bulging head, had a cock. She wanted to wrap her mouth around it and see what sounds he makes when she licks the vein or kisses the tip. Clarke has never felt this way about anyone’s genitalia before; losing her virginity to Wells was awkward fumbling and she didn’t even look down there, Finn got the job done but was nothing special, and that one time with Lexa had been cute and exciting but never made her feel like  _this_. 

This type of thing would happen the Clarke Griffin. One man’s dick had ruined her for all other’s and she doesn’t even know whose it is.

He fists his cock and leisurely starts to stroke it up and down, and Clarke makes sure that the video is muted. (What if she turned the volume up and heard some annoying, whiny voice? That would ruin this whole thing. She’d like to keep her sexy visual, thank you.)In her head, he’s moans are low and his breaths are quick pants and he growls the word  _fuck_  as he comes. 

Clarke leans back onto the pillows and slips her left hand beneath the waistband of her sleep pants. Her middle finger runs up and down the length of her slit, coating itself in the wetness that been accumulating there all day in anticipation. Her right hand cups her breasts through her shirt, pinching her nipples lightly. 

The man brings his hand up and off screen, and when it appears again she can see the shiny sheen of moisture it leaves against the skin of his cock.

_Fuck, he spit on it._

Clarke starts to rub her clit now, moving in slow circles at first. She can see beads of precum forming at the head of his cock, and she rubs faster. Her right hand abandons her breasts and moves to shove her pants down her legs. They pool at her ankles and she doesn’t even bother kicking them off all the way as she spreads her legs. 

She rubs her index and middle finger along the length of her slit, coating them in her arousal before slipping one, then the other, inside her cunt. She groans, her eyes briefly closing as she starts to finger fuck herself. They snap back open almost immediately, not wanting to miss a second of the action onscreen.

He’s moving faster now, almost desperately. He’s close and she is, too. 

Clarke feels herself reaching her peak, and she tries to hold on, but the muscles in her arms are cramping and the throbbing between her legs is almost too much to bear. Finally, when the see the thick white ropes of cum spurt from his thick, gorgeous cock, she allows herself her release.

She comes with a strangled cry, turning her head and burying her face in her pillows as she rides out her orgasm. The screen goes black after a few seconds, and Clarke barely manages to pull up her pants before passing out, utterly spent. 

* * *

Two days later it’s Saturday night and Clarke’s best friend is dragging her to this new restaurant that opened a month ago. It had been a rough week for Clarke at work, and she was looking forward to pigging out on fries and burger that weighed more than her.

“Let’s sit at the bar,” Raven says when they arrive, grabbing Clarke by the arm and steering her in the direction of the stools. 

“Why? I want to eat.”

“Just trust me.” Raven hops onto a stool and pats the one next to her. “I came here after the movies last week with Wick and the bartender is  _hot_.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and takes a seat. “I’m sure Wick would appreciate that sentiment.”

"I have a boyfriend, I’m not dead,” Raven scoffs. “Plus, I’m looking for you. He’s totally your type." 

"Oh, really? And what’s tha-”

“Evening, ladies.” A man slides in front of them and rests his forearms on the counter. “What can I get you tonight?”

One glance at Raven tells Clarke that this is the man she was speaking about, and she takes a quick second to appraise him before answering. 

He’s tall, for one. Even leaning over she can tell his height is impressive. His hair is a thick mop of dark curls that fall into his even darker eyes, and his face is dotted with freckles. Looking lower she sees how the muscles in his arms stretch the fabric of his black shirt, and there’s something familiar about his hands…

“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” Raven says, nudging Clarke, whose eyes snap up to the bartender’s and pretend not to notice his smirk.

“Uh, I’ll have a margarita,” she says hurriedly. He straightens up and drums his hands on the counter top. 

“Coming right up.”

When he turns his back to them, Raven turns to her with wide eyes. “So? What do you think?”

“He  _is_  hot,” she agrees. 

Raven’s grin gets even wider. “His name is Bellamy, I think. I overheard someone call him that last time. Kind of a weird name, but I could dig it.”

"Coming from the girl whose boyfriend’s name is Wick?” Clarke arches an eyebrow.

“Shut up, he’s coming back!”

Bellamy places the margaritas in front of them with a wink. Clarke grabs hers and immediately takes a sip. That’s when she notices Bellamy’s shirt, the worn black fabric with  _The 100_  printed across the chest, “2012 Farewell Tour” beneath it, the small tear on the bottom left side…

Clarke chokes on her drink, causing Raven to whack her on the back. Bellamy looks at her with concern as she sputters for a moment. 

“Are you okay? I may not be the best bartender in the world, but my margaritas aren’t that bad,” he jokes. 

Raven laughs, and Clarke tries to manage a weak smile but it probably comes off as a grimace.  _It’s him. Holy shit, it’s him._

When he leaves to go tend to another patron, Raven grabs her arm.

“What the hell was that? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

How the hell was Clarke supposed to explain that one?  _I have a masturbation fetish and like to get off watching guys jack it online? More specifically, I like to watch one guy do it twice a week, and he just happens to be our bartender?_

She looks over her shoulder at Bellamy, pouring tequila into four shot glasses. A shiver runs through her.

“Well, Clarke? What is it?”

She looks back to her best friend and manages a real smile this time. “Nothing. Just went down the wrong pipe, I guess.”

_I am royally screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	9. Exhibitionists (Part II)

**prompt:** "Bellarke as exhibitionists, part 2?"

* * *

Clarke joins Raven at the bar every Saturday night for the next two months. Bellamy is there every night, serving them with a wink and a flirty smile that never fails to make Clarke blush. They’ve managed to have a few conversations, and she learns that he’s getting his PhD at Ark University and wants to teach History, and the only reason it’s taken him so long is because he’s had to take care of his younger sister, Octavia. He learns that she is on her way to becoming a pediatric surgeon and loves drawing pictures for the kids in between shifts. 

Raven makes it her job to push the two of them together, always making a point to wave him over for another round then leave to go to the bathroom, or commenting on how  _awesome_  Clarke’s breasts look in the shirt she’s wearing. (Bellamy nearly dropped the martini he was holding at that point.)

But Clarke can’t stop feeling like a sleaze whenever she looks at him, because she’s known who he was for two whole months and she still gets off to his shows twice a week. 

It’s almost better now, honestly. She knows what his voice sounds like, she’s memorized the curve of his lips, and she even knows what he  _smells_  like since one night Raven got too plastered and they both had to help her to the car. When she watches him now she’s able to visualize the expressions he might be making, how the muscles in his shoulders might tense and how he might bite his lip when he comes.

It’s definitely better now.

(But she still feels a bit creepy.)

Clarke decides to make her own account. She locates his username and sends him a message before she loses her courage.

_Hey ;) I’ve been watching you and I’ve really liked what I’ve seen. Now I want you to watch me. I’ll start at midnight._

She attaches a link to her own stream and sits back, waiting. She’s made sure that the link is private, so only those with an invitation can view the stream. Having some random people perv on her is the last thing she wants.

Two minutes later, he writes back.

_Looking forward to it._

Glancing at her clock, she sees she has less than two hours to spare. She quickly hops into the shower and freshens up, shaving her legs and underarms and taking extra care  _down there_. By the time she gets out and blow dries her hair to fall is soft waves over her shoulders, it a quarter past eleven. 

It takes nearly half an hour for her to decide on what to wear. Does she go with nothing? Or lingerie? Or a tee, like he does?

When her eyes settle on her favorite jacket, the blue one with the eagle patch sewn onto the right sleeve, draped over her desk chair, she knows what to do.

When the feed starts, Clarke is momentarily thrown off when she sees herself on the screen. She totally bare save for her jacket, and its unzipped to show the smooth skin of her stomach and the swell of her breasts.

After checking to make sure the viewer number at the bottom of the screen is still at 1, Clarke begins her show. 

Like him, she keeps her face out of the camera. She slowly runs a finger down her stomach. She uncrosses her legs, baring herself to him, and lets that finger trace her slit. Her heart is beating out of her chest, half out of nerves and half out of excitement. 

Clarke lets her mind wander as she plays with herself, conjuring up images of the gorgeous man who’s been unkowningly torturing her. She thinks of the rippling muscles of his arms, his smirk, the way his eyes light up when he laughs. Two fingers circle her clit as she imagines him there with her, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the length of her throat. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she whispers, grinding against her fingers. She brings her other hand to her mouth and sucks on her index and middle finger, thoroughly coating them in her spit before slipping them inside her dripping cunt. 

Clarke can’t control the whine that slips past her lips. She fucks herself with her fingers, almost desperately, and she wishes it was that glorious cock of his. She wishes his for his mouth on her nipples and his hands all over her skin and his deep, sexy voice whispering to her as she chases her climax. 

Her orgasm hits her hard, her back arching as she comes, and her jacket falls open, exposing her tits completely. She can’t bring herself to care, too overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure consuming her. When it’s over, she props herself up on her elbow and leans towards the screen, just far enough so that her lips are visible. They quirk up in a smirk, and she blows a kiss at the camera before cutting the feed. 

* * *

Next Saturday, Clarke arrives at the bar alone. She stands a little bit away from the counter, her heart pounding in her chest when she sees Bellamy drying a shot glass. His back is to her, but his boss, Kane, notices her and smiles. Bellamy turns around and their eyes lock.

_This is it._

He smiles in greeting and she gives him a timid wave. His eyes drop lower, and she watches them widen when she takes in her jacket, recognizing the eagle patch on her sleeve.

The glass he was holding drops to the floor at shatters.  

Bellamy sprints over to her and grips her shoulders like a vice. “It’s you,” he breathes.

“I’m sorry,” she stammers immediately, dropping his gaze. “I should’ve told you-”

He cuts her off by surging forward and capturing her lips with his. Clarke squeaks in surprise against his mouth, but relaxes immediately. His kiss is gentle but demanding, and her toes curl in her shoes. The whole room erupts into cheers.

“Hey, Blake!” Kane calls from across the bar with a sly grin. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off?”

Bellamy chuckles and rests his forehead against hers. 

“My place or yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	10. Exhibitionists (Part III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final installment. I hope you've enjoyed it!

**prompt:** "Could you please please write a part 3 of the exhibitionist drabbles??? You know something about what happens when they're finally not in front of the computer?? :)"

* * *

_"_ Bellamy’s bed was huge, at least twice the size of her own. They could each lay spread-eagle on the mattress and maintain their personal space with ease. It was quite fortunate, really, because it allowed for them to do what Clarke wanted, what she had whispered salaciously in his ear as he drove them to his house at breakneck speed.

Before that, of course, she had explained everything. Watching him, making the connection at the bar, growing to care for him, being utterly terrified of him finding out the truth and thinking she was crazy. He had just laughed when she was finished, all of her doubts melting away when he grabbed her hand over the console and brought it to his lips. 

Once that initial awkwardness wore off, a new feeling settled in:  _Lust._

It was only fitting, Clarke thought, to end this how it all started. 

Watching each other.

(Well, technically it wasn’t an ending. Whatever was going on between Bellamy and Clarke was only just beginning.)

But that’s how they ended up on either side of his bed, not touching, but eyes glued to each other as they got themselves off.

It was Clarke who came first, with two fingers buried in her pussy and one hand kneading her plump breast. Bellamy followed suit seconds later, coming hard onto his stomach as he watched Clarke writhe around before him. 

“That was even better in person,” she giggled, crawling towards him. He watched in awe as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, which was already half hard again, and licked the cum from his skin. 

“I’d say so,” he said through labored breaths when she took him into her mouth. The feeling of her lips around his dick had him fully hard again in seconds, but he wanted this time to last.

“C’mere,” he told her, laying back on the pillows. She took the hint and moved up his body until she was straddling his head. “The second I saw your pussy I knew I’d have to taste it.”

“ _Oh_!” Clarke gasped as he parted her folds with his fingers and licked a slow stripe over her slit. Bellamy groans and drops his head back onto the pillows, staring up at her through hooded eyes.

“You taste so fucking good, baby.” 

And then he was at it again, this time spearing his tongue inside her dripping cunt and circling her clit with his thumb. Clarke grabbed a fistful of his hair and circled her hips in time with his tongue, practically grinding against his face.

“Oh shit,  _Bellamy!_ ” Clarke whined, her hips moving faster. “I’m so close!”

 He moaned, sending vibrations through her core that were her undoing. She shuddered as she came and he lapped up everything she gave him as if it were keeping him alive. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” Bellamy said when she rolled off him and onto her stomach. Clarke winked at him over her shoulder.

“I sure hope not.”

When Bellamy first moved in, he didn’t really care much about interior decoration. He put things in practical spots and that was that. But if he could go back and time and high-five his past self for deciding to put a full-length mirror across from his bed, he would. 

When they finally join together, Clarke was on her hands and knees at the foot of the bed and behind her Bellamy had one hand gripping her waist and the other snaked between her legs. Their eyes were glued to each other’s in the mirror. Clarke watched Bellamy bite his lip and groan when she toyed with tightening her muscles around him, and he saw how her mouth formed a perfect O when he rotated his hips and his cock brushed that special spot inside of her. 

It was the most intimate the both of them had ever been with another person.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Clarke gasped out as she chased her third orgasm of the night. 

Bellamy’s grip on her hip tightened. “I’ve wanted you since the second I saw you,” he grunted. Her walls tightened around him, and he knew she was close. “You’re so fucking sexy, Clarke.  _Shit_. You’re perfect.”

“Oh my God,” she moaned, her breath hitching. His fingers pressed harder against her clit and then she was coming, harder than she ever had before. Her eyes closed and her back arched and her mouth was open but no sound escaped, and just the sight of her was so damn beautiful that Bellamy couldn’t hold back any longer. He came as she trembled around him, gripping her hips so tightly that she’d most certainly wake up with a bruise. 

Clarke was too boneless and dizzy from her orgasm to care. 

She whimpered at the loss of contact when he pulled out of her and flopped onto his back, but then his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her on top of him. Clarke curled against his side so naturally, resting her head on his chest as if she’d done it a million times before. 

“So, I have off tomorrow,” Bellamy started, entwining their fingers and bringing them to his mouth for a kiss. “And I was thinking that if you’re free as well we could hang out for a bit? I’ll make some breakfast and then, if you want, we could go to the art show downtown?”

Clarke looked up at him through her lashes and pressed a kiss over his heart. “I’d love that.”

“Really?” His eyes were bright with excitement, and she grinned widely. 

“Absolutely.” She kissed up his chest and over his throat until she reached his lips. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That we’ll do  _this_ -” Her free hand stroked up the length of his cock lightly, and he gasped, “-again very soon.”

“Give me thirty minutes,” Bellamy vowed, rolling over so that she was beneath him and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss.

He was ready in ten. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	11. Love

**prompt:** "'Why on earth am I in love with you?!' blurted out by Clarke during a heated argument, in front of the rest of the camp?"

* * *

“You’re being ridiculous!” Clarke shouted, stomping behind Bellamy as he moved through camp. People around them stopped what they were doing to watch them. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes and came to a sudden stop. Clarke nearly barrelled into him, but she caught herself at the last second.

“I absolutely am not. And this is no concern of yours.”

“Bellamy Blake, if you take another step you will regret it,” Clarke warned, poking his chest. “He is a good man and you know it.”

“He absolutely is a good man,” Bellamy agreed. “But he got my little sister pregnant. So I’m going to kill him.”

He turned on his heel and stomped away. Clarke ran so she was in front of him and placed both hands on his chest.

“Don’t be such a protective ass, Bellamy! We’re at peace. Your sister is in love. Her and Lincoln are going to have a baby, don’t you know how amazing that is?”

Bellamy gritted his teeth and looked away. “It’s great, but you don’t understand, Clarke-”

“What’s there to understand? Why can’t you just be happy?”

“I  _am_ , but that’s not the point! It’s- he’s- they’re-”

“Ugh! Why on earth am I in love with you?” Clarke groaned, slapping her palm over her forehead. There was a collective gasp throughout the camp, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You’re seriously the most s-”

Bellamy cut her off by surging forward and pressing his lips to hers. Clarke yelped but then responded to the kiss in kind, her fingers braiding themselves into the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“You’re in love with me?” Bellamy panted when they pulled back to catch their breath, resting his forehead against hers. Clarke flushed.

“I guess that kind of slipped out, huh?”

“I’m glad it did,” Bellamy said, kissing her lightly and then pulling back. “Because I’m in love with you, too.”

Clarke grinned and pulled him to her again. If the whole camp broke out into applause, they wouldn’t have noticed, too absorbed in each other.

_(They did.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	12. Jealousy

**prompt:** _"_ Prompt: Bellamy gets jealous and things get heated when he and clarke get back to their tent."

* * *

Bellamy has one hand clamped over Clarke’s mouth and the other between her thighs. 

 _“If you apply the this seaweed to flesh wounds, it prevents infection,” Talia said, holding the leaves in her left hand out to Clarke. She was the healer of the River Clan, and now that they had forged a trade agreement their_ heda _had thought it would be a good idea for the girls to share their knowledge. “But this seaweed would only aggravate the condition. We use it to soothe sore muscles.”_

_Clarke’s brows furrowed. “How do you do that?”_

His middle and index fingers are buried inside her cunt, fucking her roughly as his thumb swipes over her clit. 

_Without asking, Talia grabbed Clarke’s wrist and extended her arm. Her dark fingers danced up her exposed skin- the warm summer air allowed for less clothing- and curved around her bicep. Bellamy watched as she wrapped the seaweed around Clarke’s arm and pressed down on the bindings._

_“Oh!” Clarke gasped, eyes widening. Talia smirked.  
_

_“Soothing, is it not?”  
_

Clarke moans aganst his palm when he twists his fingers inside of her. 

_“Yes,” Clarke gasped. Talia began to massage the muscle, and her eyes fluttered closed. “It feels great.”  
_

“Feels great, doesn’t it?” Bellamy growls, pressing harder on her clit. They’re still in the medbay, spread out across and examination table, and it’s the middle of the afternoon. The door is open and anyone can walk in at any moment. 

Clarke nods, her hips moving in tandem with his hand, desperate for more friction.

Bellamy removes his hand from her mouth and grabs her chin, forcing her to look down at him.

“You going to come for me?”

Whimpering, Clarke nods again. His hand leaves her chin and palms her breast.

“Say it.”

“I-I’m gonna come for you,” she pants, biting her lip. Bellamy twists his fingers again and she yelps.

“Say my name, baby.”

“Bellamy!” Clarke yells, grabbing his hand around his breast. He tweaks her nipple and she shudders around his fingers. “Bellamy, I’m-”

Her words cut off and turns into a strangled cry. He welcomes the warm rush of fluid around his fingers as she comes, never stopping his assault on her clit. Eventually her tense body relaxes, but her thighs still twitch with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Only then does Bellamy remove his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Jealous, much?” Clarke pants, looking at him with a knowing smirk. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, handing her her discarded bra and shirt. She sits up at slips them on.

“Of Talia? I saw the way your were looking at us before.”

“Well, I saw the way you were looking at her,” Bellamy grunts, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Hey.” Clarke slides off the table and slips her underwear back on before coming to stand in front of him. “There’s no competition here, okay?  _You_  have no competition here. Or anywhere.”

Bellamy can’t fight the smile that forms at her words. “Whatever you say, Clarke.”

She shoves his arm playfully and then hops up on the tips of her toes to smack a kiss against his lips. “Love you, weirdo.”

She bends down and picks up her discarded jeans. Bellamy watches her shimmy into her pants, jumping around awkwardly as she shoves her legs through the openings. He chuckles. 

“Love you, too, Clarke.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	13. Hickey

**prompt:**  "Someone, preferably Raven, asks Clarke "Is that a Hickey?!" while diner and everyone around the table immediately looks at Bellamy? Like Bellamy and Clarke sneak around and keep their relationship a secret, but not really fooling anyone?"

* * *

 _“Is that a hickey?!?”_ Raven gasps, dropping her fork and pointing at Clarke’s neck. The conversation around them immediately dies down and everyone turns to look at their table.

Clarke flushes a brilliant shade of red and ducks her head, her hand coming up to rub the side of her neck she  _thought_ her hair covered. 

“What? No, of course not,” she mumbles, the marked flesh burning under her touch as she remembers how it came to be. “Just a bruise.”

“Oh, really?” Raven smirks. She looks to Bellamy, who is seated next to Clarke and suddenly very interested in his dinner, and quirks an eyebrow.”Bellamy, what do you think about it?”

“Think about what?” he grunts through a mouthful of venison.

Everyone’s eyes are trained on them, and he tries to deter them with a glare. 

“The ‘bruise’ you left on the left side of Clarke’s neck,” Raven says sweetly. 

Bellamy swallows. “It’s the  _right_ side and I didn’t-”

He stops suddenly, and his face pales. Clarke turns to him with wide eyes, and Raven cackles with delight.

“You guys seriously thought you were being sneaky? Clarke left the med bay with her shirt on backwards yesterday, and you were the only one in there with her, Bell,” Octavia says from beside Raven, snorting as she took a sip of water. “We’re not stupid.”

Clarke lets out a light laugh and fixes Bellamy with a small smile. “I guess the secret’s out then,” she says. 

“I guess so.” Bellamy throws an arm around her shoulders and tucks her into his side. Jasper lets out a loud whoop at the gesture and Monty elbows him in the ribs. Raven just rolls her eyes and continues eating, but her lips are curled up in a smirk for the rest of the meal.

Just as Clarke is bringing her final forkful of meat to her mouth, Bellamy dips his head down to whisper in her ear.

“Good thing you don’t have to hide your ‘bruises’ anymore, Princess, because I plan on leaving them _everywhere_ tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	14. Going Down

**prompt:**  "Okay I see so much of bellamy going down on Clark abut is love to see some clarke giving Bellamy head. I don't really care about details except like its be cool if it got a little rough?"

* * *

Clarke never understood why kneeling was thought to be a subservient position. From her perspective, on her knees in front of Bellamy, slowly pulling the fabric of his underwear down his thighs, she was totally in control.

And she loved it.

Bellamy hummed contentedly as she pressed a kiss to the head of his cock. His fingers wound into her hair and she wrapped her hand around the base.

“What brought this on?” Bellamy asked as she began to stroke him. She took note of the way his thighs would tremble when her thumb swiped over the tip. 

“I saw you at the cabin today.”

The cabin was soon to be theirs. Bellamy and his crew had spent weeks gathering the lumber needed to construct it, and earlier that day Clarke had wandered over to the site and saw them in the middle of their break. Miller had challenged Bellamy to do as many pull-ups as he could on the framework of the doorway. 

“Oh?” Bellamys breath hitched as he put her mouth around him. “You saw me kick Miller’s ass?”

Clarke hummed around his cock, causing him to groan. She’d seen him kick Miller’s ass alright. He was able to do twice as many pull-ups as his friend, and he’d done it all with his shirt off and skin slickeed with sweat. She had run off after he finished without even telling her she was there, scared she wouldn’t have been able to control herself and jumped him in front of everyone.

The scene had been playing in her mind all day, and when he finally entered their tent that night, she had barely said two words to him before yanking his pants down and sinking to her knees.

They stopped talking after that, mostly because Bellamy could barely form a coherent sentence and Clarke’s mouth was otherwise engaged. She enjoyed going down on him. Truly, she did. She loved the feel of his hard cock in her hand and the slightly salty taste of him on her tongue. She lived for the way his grip on her hair would tighten when her tongue swiped over the vein just beneath the head, and how when she took him as deep as she could down her throat he would quite literally stop breathing. 

“Clarke,” he moaned after a few moments. “Fuck, baby, I’m close.”

Clarke sucked even harder, using her hand to stroke the part of him she couldn’t fit in her mouth. She hummed again, and the vibrations made Bellamy’s knees buckle as he came. She swallowed everything he gave her and released his cock with a  _pop_.

“Wow,” he panted, collapsing onto their bed. His pants were still around his ankles, and Clarke smirked at the sight when she stood up and wiped her mouth. There was a throbbing heat between her legs, but she ignored it for now, knowing he would take care of her once he recovered.

“Must be the horomones,” she said, stripping off her shirt and pants and climbing into bed beside him. Bellamy’s hand immediately found the slight swell of her stomach and carressed it lightly. 

“I have to say, I prefer this side effect to the morning sickness.”

“More like all day sickness,” Clarke snorted. “Enjoy it while it lasts, because soon I’ll just be sweaty and achey and fat. You won’t want to touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

Bellamy chuckled. “I’ll always want to touch you, Clarke.”

As if to prove his point, the hand on her stomach slid under the band of her underwear. Clarke gasped as he began to circle her clit lightly.

“Now, if I recall, it’s my time to return the favor.”

Bellamy pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her body until his head was settled between her thighs. Then he ripped off her underwear and latched onto her clit, giving it a long, hard suck that had Clarke keening. 

He did return the favor. Three times. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (ohalaskayoung)


	15. Dad

**prompt:** "It's not sexual but can you do Bellamy as a dad (Clarke is the mom obvs) and his daughter is going on her first date and he's being well a dad??"

* * *

 

“Stop pacing,” Clarke says with a grin as she comes down the stairs into the living room. 

“I’m not pacing,” Bellamy answers as he practically wears a hole in the floor in front of the front door. He’s biting at the skin of his thumb as he walks, his eyes trained on the floor and his forehead creased in a way that lets Clarke know that he’s very, very deep in thought. 

A knock at the door startles them both.

“He’s here!” Clarke says, recovering first with a brilliant smile. She moves towards the door, but Bellamy throws out an arm to stop her. 

“Wait!”

Clarke sighs, entwining their fingers. She brings his hand to her mouth and kisses the band on his fourth finger. “Bellamy, we talked about this.”

“She’s not ready,” he tries weakly. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“She’s been ready for a long time, Bell. You’re the one who isn’t ready.”

She pushes past him and swings open the door, revealing a lanky boy with a mop of sandy curls standing on their front porch, a bouquet of wild blue orchids clutched tightly in his hands. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Blake!” he says, grinning widely. He extends a hand, which Clarke grabs first and shakes. “It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

Bellamy swoops in next, grabbing the boy’s hand. He doesn’t wince, as Clarke expects, but his eyes tighten in a way that lets her know her husband’s grip isn’t as gentle as hers.

“Likewise,” she says, subtley checking her hip against Bellamy’s. “Those flowers are beautiful. She’ll love them.”

Bellamy releases the boy’s hand and grunts. “You never told us your name, you know.”

“Oh, right! I’m sorry. I’m-”

“Landon!”

The three of them turn around when they hear her voice. Hera Blake stands at the top of the stairs, her face flushed and her blue eyes bright with excitement. 

“Hera! Wow,” Landon breathes, taking in her appearance as she slowly descends down the stares. The sixteen-year-old’s black curls are wound into a fishtail braid that curves around her neck and rests just below her collarbone, right over the swooping neckline of the pale pink sundress sheathing her petite frame. 

“You look beautiful, honey,” Clarke coos as she comes to stand in front of them. 

“Yes, you do,” Bellamy agrees, his expression softening as he takes in his daughter. He gives Landon a sideways glance and clears his throat.

“Oh! Right. These are for you, Hera.” Landon hands her the flowers, which she takes with a sheepish grin. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, bringing them to her face and inhaling. 

“So, you’ll have her home by eight?” Bellamy asks, turning to Landen and folding his arms over his chest. Hera’s eyes widen.

“Dad! You said nine thirty!”

“Did I? You must be mistaken.”

“Have her home by ten,” Clarke cuts in, placing a hand on Landen’s shoulder and giving him an encouraging smile. “And have a wonderful time.”

Hera’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thanks, Mom. Can we go now?”

She steps forward and slips her hand into Landen’s. Bellamy looks as if he’ll have an aneurysm at any second. 

“Yes,” Clarke says, practically shooing them out the door. She kisses Hera’s forehead and blinks back a tear. “It was lovely to meet you, Landon.”

They step over the threshold, and Bellamy speaks up. “Hera, wait!”

Clarke bites her lip, ready to jump in again, but is surprised when his voice softens.

“Give me your flowers. We’ll put them in some water.”

Hera looks down at her orchids and nods. When she hands them to him, Bellamy takes them in one hand and then pulls her in for a hug, crushing her to his chest.

“ _Dad_ ,” she whines half-heartedly. Bellamy leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you, Princess,” he whispers into her hair. Hera wraps her arms around him and squeezes.

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Only then does he let her go, fixing Landon with one last glare. “Ten o’clock. Not a minute later.” Then he turns and stalks into the kitchen, flowers in hand.

Clarke waits until Hera and Landon are in his car and turning the corner before she closes the front door and walks inside. She finds her husband filling a vase with water, his fingers drumming impatiently on the countertop. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his back.

“They’ll be fine,” she murmurs into the fabric of his shirt. Bellamy sighs, and his hands cover hers. 

“I know.”

“He’s a nice boy.”

“…”

“ _Bellamy_.”

“Yeah, yeah, he seems decent. But no one will ever be good enough for her.”

“You’re such a dad. Now let’s get started on dinner. I’m starving.”

Bellamy chuckles and turns around so that they’re face to face. He has a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

“ _Hi, Starving. I’m Dad_.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (ohalaskayoung)


	16. Jacket

**prompt:** "Can you please write a Bellarke with Clarke wearing Bellamy's jacket or something around camp (maybe someone noticing it's not her jacket) and like some fluff involved? :)"

* * *

 

They start sharing a tent the night of the first snowfall. She claims that it’s because the fire in his tent is always roaring and he claims that she barely slept in hers anyway (most nights she passed out in the medbay) so they might as well let someone else make use of it. One way or another, they both end up curled around each other under the furs that night, and every night since.

“Clarke!” Miller shouts from outside, waking Clarke from her slumber. “We need you! Jasper cut his arm!”

Clarke groans. If it was something truly life-threatening, Miller would have just barged in and practically hauled her out of there. Since he didn’t, Clarke relaxes back into the furs for a few seconds. 

Bellamy’s arms tighten around her waist, and she takes in his sleeping form. The hard lines that decorate his face during the day melt away when he sleeps, giving him a relaxed expression that Clarke rarely sees. His curls awry and spill onto his forehead, and without thinking Clarke runs a hand through their softness.

“Clarke!” Miller yells again. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah!” she says back, snapping out of her haze and carefully extracting herself from Bellamy’s grip. As she puts on her boots he mumbles in his sleep and reaches for her, but she places a hand on his shoulder and shushes him.

“I’m just going to the med bay,” she whispers. He sighs, placated, and rolls over. 

Clarke smiles as she grabs a jacket off the back of their makeshift chair and hurries out the door. 

She has a needle in the skin of Jasper’s forearm when he asks, “Is that Bellamy’s jacket?”

Only then does Clarke recognize the unfamiliar fabric, the bagginess of the material and how she’s practically drowning in it. Blushing, she finishes the stitch. 

“Oh. Yeah, it is.”

Pale from the loss of blood, Jasper smirks. “Looks like-”

“Looks like someone needs to be more careful next time their skinning rabbits,” Bellamy says, strolling into the medbay. When he sees Clarke in his jacket, his eyes widen appreciatively and her blushes deepens.

“You’re all done, Jas,” Clarke mutters, wrapping a bandage around his wound. “Come see me after dinner so I can change the wrappings.”

“You got it, Boss,” he says, carefully standing up and walking towards the door. “Other Boss,” he says to Bellamy with a wink.

Bellamy scoffs, and once he’s out of sight, he turns to Clarke with a smirk.

“My jacket suits you, Princess.” 

Clarke shrugs out of it and holds it out to him. She immediately misses its warmth and the weight on her shoulders. “Sorry. I was in a rush and just grabbed it.”

Bellamy takes it from her, but makes no move to put it on. Instead, he comes to stand behind her and drapes it over her shoulders.

“No worries,” he says, leaning down so his lips barely brush over the shell of her ear. “It looks far better on you than it ever did on me.”

Then he struts out of the medbay, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

Clarke doesn’t take off the jacket for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	17. The Drink

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you,” Bellamy pleads. “You’re forgiven.”

Clarke looks away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze, so sincere, so tender that it hurts.

“ _Please_ , come inside.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the words to come. “Take care of them for me.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen. “Clarke…”

“Seeing their faces everyday is just going to remind me of what I did to get them here,” Clarke whispers brokenly.

“What _we_  did,” Bellamy insists. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Clarke feels the unwelcome tears pricking at her eyes, and she looks away, back towards Camp. Her mother is being hooked up to a saline drip, and Jasper is staring up at what’s left of the Ark, his goggles dangling from his hand.

“I bear it,” Clarke says softly, turning back to Bellamy, “so they don’t have to.”

The look of pain in his eyes is almost too much for her to bear. He looks, for a moment, as if he’s going to let her go, but then he cups her face gently, wiping away the tears she didn’t know started to fall.

“Let me bear this with you,” he says. “We’re in this together, Clarke. Remember?”

She closes her eyes and leans into his touch. “I’ve killed so many people, Bellamy. So many innocent people.”

 **prompt:** "Bellamy convinces Clarke to stay after the finale and they get that drink."

* * *

“So have I,” he reminds her. “None of our hands are clean. But you can’t let our people be a reminder of who you killed. Let them be a reminder of who you saved.”

Clarke looks back into Camp one more time. She spots Wick on the ground next to Raven, whose leg is being examined by Jackson. She can’t hear what they’re saying, but Wick mutters something as he brushes a strand of hair away from Raven’s face, and she smirks. A few feet away, David Miller pulls his son in for what looks like the thousandth hug of the day. 

“Bellamy, I…” She grips his wrists, anchoring his hands to her face, not quite ready for the abscence of his steadying touch. 

“We can do this together, Clarke,” he promises. He removes his hands from her face only to link their fingers together between them. 

Clarke bites her lip and nods slowly. When his shoulders sag with relief, her heart swells, and she knows she made the right choice. “Together.”

Bellamy takes a tentative step forward, and after a second, she follows. They walk through the gates together, hand in hand. Her grip on him tightens when they pass Jasper, but it loosens when Octavia approaches them and wraps her in a tight hug.

Clarke stills for a moment, surprised, then wraps one arm around her, the other still planted by her side, locked in Bellamy’s grip.

“We’ll be okay,” Octavia whispers. Clarke starts to allow herself to believe it.

“Yeah,” she says, catching Bellamy’s eye. “I think we will.”

They get their drinks, eventually. Someone lights a fire, and cups are passed around, and soon enough the whole camp is buzzing with energy. Clarke and Bellamy are by each other’s side the whole night. At some point, Kane raises his cup and the Camp falls silent.

“To us, the survivors,” he says, and then gives Bellamy and Clarke a pointed look. “And to those who saved us.”

“ _To those who saved us_ ,” the Camp echoes, raising their cups and taking a drink. 

Clarke flushes, and Bellamy wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her against him. “To us,” he murmurs in her ear.

They clink their cups together and Clarke allows herself a smile as she looks up at him. Bellamy. The man she has grown to trust more than anyone else. Her friend, her ally, her co-leader. Her person.  

“To us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	18. Braids

**prompt:** "You should totally write a mini fic on Bellamy braiding Clarke's hair that would be adorable!"

* * *

“Ouch, Bellamy!” Clarke lurched forward, out of his grip, and glared at him over her shoulder. “Could you _be_ more rough?”

“Could your hair  _be_  more tangled?” he snapped back, forcing her head back around so he could weave his fingers into the golden strands again. “Seriously, Clarke. You’ve got more knots than Octavia, and she had to cut out a chunk of it last night because it was too caked in blood.”

Her grimace turned into a smirk. “That’s our little warrior-  _Damn it, Bellamy_!”

“We have brushes now, you know!” Bellamy yelled, untangling the snarl that his finger was caught in. “And I know you know how to braid your own hair. If you’re going to yell at me every time it hurts for a second then I’ll just leave.”

“No!” she said, quicker than she would have liked. In that moment, she was thankful that he was still seated behind her so he couldn’t see her flush. “…You do it the best.”

_I want you here with me._

Bellamy was quiet for a second, then he grunted, “Damn right, I do.”

_I’ll always be here with you._

She managed to stay quiet while he worked through the rest of the knots, only letting out a soft hiss every now and then. Eventually, as his fingers wound her locks together, the sensation turned more pleasureable. Her tense shoulders relaxed and her eyes fluttered shut on her own accord.

“Still with me, Clarke?”

The braid was finished, but Bellamy’s hands didn’t still. His nails raked gently over her scalp, down her neck, across her shoulders. Clarke hummed contentedly. 

“Clarke?”

“Stillwithyou,” she mumbled, leaning back against him. She couldn’t see Bellamy’s soft smile as he tenderly tucked her back against his chest, his legs on either side of hers and her head resting against his shoulder. “I’m so…so tired.”

“You can sleep,” Bellamy murmured, unable to stop himself from pressing a light kiss to her temple. Clarke yawned adorably and burrowed further into him before her breaths evened out, signaling that she was asleep. “I’m right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!   
> (obellamyblake)


	19. Shower

**prompt:** "Clarke's reaction to seeing Bellamy's dick for the first time. I don't care if canon or modern au!"

* * *

Camping was Octavia’s idea. It was something she and Bellamy used to do with their mom, before things got bad. It was her who booked the site, convinced everone to take off for the weekend, and stuffed her gigantic black Hummer with all the food, supplies, and gear they needed for the two-day excursion.

Clarke had never been camping before. She was not an outdoorsy girl by any stretch of the imagination, but she was not about to back out and suffer through Bellamy poking fun at her for weeks to come. She could practically hear his taunts already.

_“Looks like the Princess can’t handle a bit of fresh air in her lungs and mud on her fancy thousand-dollar boots.”_

Never mind the fact that her boots were only two hundred dollars and they were a well-deserved birthday gift to herself last year, Clarke decided to grit her teeth and tag along. Plus, Monty promised to bring a batch of his famous homemade moonshine, and Octavia promised that there were facilities on site where they could shower and use the bathroom. 

How bad could it be?

After piling eight people and their supplies into a car that could only seat five and hitting the road before the sun rose, spending two hours trying to pitch their tents which ended up with Jasper crying, and nearly half the day trekking through the woods to find the picnic spot Octavia just knew was still there, Clarke was glad to be back at the camp site. Bellamy had been driving her crazy all day. If it wasn’t his barbed comments, it was the way his hair curled over his ears. If he wasn’t smirking at her when she tripped over  _another_  tree root, it was when he whipped off his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and she had to turn away because her heart quite literally skipped a beat. 

If it wasn’t the way he gently lifted her to her feet when one trip turned into a bad fall, it was the way he looked at her so tenderly as he touched her left ankle and asked if she was okay. 

When they got back to camp, Clarke hurriedly grabbed her shower bucket and headed to the facilities, eager to wash away the sweat and grime of the day. She was also hoping that the most likely-cold water would wash away the thoughts warming her body whenever she looked at her best friend’s brother.

Much to her disappointment, there were no individual stalls, only a long row of shower heads. A thin, dirty curtain separated the men’s and the women’s sections, but thankfully Clarke was alone as she gingerly stepped onto the tiles. She kept her flip flops on, hesitant to let her skin touch the surely contaminated floors, and manhandled the knob until a weak stream of water started coming out of one of the shower heads. 

Clarke shimmied out of her clothes and placed them and her towel on a rickety shelf on the wall. Then she ducked under the spray, pleasantly surprised to feel that it’s relatively warm. She hummed to herself as she washed away a layer of dirt. Eyes closed and face under the water, she blindly reached for where she hung her bucket, groping for the shampoo. Her wet hand closed around the bottle, but as she lifted it up it slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor.

“Shit!” Clarke hissed as it rolled down the uneven tiles, under the curtain, and into the men’s section. Not bothering to turn off the water, she hastily threw her towel around her torso and followed the path of the bottle. Perhaps it was because she didn’t turn off her own shower that she didn’t recognize the sound of another being on, and so when Clarke ripped back the curtain she was shocked to be met with a wall of tanned skin and rippling muscles.

Bellamy looked over his shoulder and smirked, his hair wet hair sticking to his head. “Couldn’t get enough me, Princess?”

“Shut up,” Clarke snapped, her voice slightly weaker than she would’ve liked, but she blamed that on the way the water made his skin glisten. “I dropped my shampoo.”

Bellamy arched an eyebrow, but he nodded to where the bottle came to a stop against the far wall. “I was wondering who that belonged to.”

She rolled her eyes and willed herself forward, grabbing it quickly and straightening up, making sure her towel covered her the entire time. When she turned back to Bellamy, she squeaked when she saw that he had turned around completely, and she could see everything. 

“Oh! I- Uh- I-” Clarke stuttered, unable to tear her gaze away from his body. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched as her eyes raked down his body, lingering on a particular appendage.

To be fair, Clarke’s seen a fair share of male genitalia in her life. Between a few casual boyfriends and her stint in medical school, the days when the sight of a penis would make her blush are long gone. But as she stared at Bellamy Blake’s dick, she felt like she was on fire. 

_It was fucking huge._

“By the way you’re staring, Princess, I’m not so sure if I should be insulted or flattered.”

But he was staring, too, and she loved the heat that rushed between her legs when she watches his eyes darken as they move over her exposed skin. Clarke wet her lips, and without thinking unfolded her towel from around her body. “Fuck it.” The damp fabric dropped to the floor with a dull  _thud_. 

“Jesus, Clarke, I-” Bellamy didn’t get a chance to finish before she was striding forward, joining him under the spray and crashing their lips together. Bellamy groaned, cupping Clarke’s face in his hands and pulling her flush against him. She gasped into his mouth when she felt him stir against her inner thigh. 

Reaching down, her fingers brushed over the head of his cock and his hips jerked forward. Feeling bold, Clarke wrapped her whole hand around his impressive length. She broke their kiss to watch as he grew harder in her hand, stroking his dick slowly.

“Clarke,” Bellamy moaned when her thumb swiped over the tip. His hands came under her to grip her thighs and he lifted her up like she weighed nothing. Her flip flops clattered to the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her arms over his shoulders, ducking her head down to kiss him again as he rubbed his cock against her wetness.

Clarke whimpered into his mouth when he brushed over her clit, and he bit her lower lip gently in response. 

“Clarke, I’m clean, but I don’t have-”

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean, too,” she said hurriedly, grinding herself against him. “I trust you, Bellamy. Just  _please_  fuck me.”

“Well, since you asked nicely.” He sheathed himself inside her in one swift movement. Clarke’s breath hitched as he filled her, stretching her in a delicious way. When he thrust inside her again, his cock brushed against a soft, sensitive spot inside her and she trembled.

“Fuck!” she whined, bracing herself on his shoulders to give herself some leverage as she met his thrusts. “Oh,  _right there right there right there_!”

“Shit, Princess, you’re so fucking tight,” Bellamy growled. He grabbed her rigth leg and hitched it up over his shoulder so he could drive into her. Some part of Clarke’s brain was reveling in just how _strong_  he was but it was overpowered by the part that was reeling in pure ecstasy. “So wet, too. Fuck. So wet for me.”

Her orgasm was approaching fast, and Bellamy’s dirty talking would only speed up the process. She reached down to rub at her clit, desperate for some more friction, and his eyes darkened as he watched her hand.

“ _Fuck_ , that’s it. Touch yourself, baby. Are you close?”

“Yeah,” Clarke whimpered, nodding her head. Bellamy leaned in and captured her lips in a searing kiss, pounding faster into her. When they broke apart, his lips trailed up her jaw so he could whisper in her ear. 

“Come for me, Princess. I want to feel it, baby. Come all over my cock.”

Clarke stiffened as her orgasm washed over her, her toes curling and her eyes rolling back in her head. Her scream was swallowed by Bellamy’s lips, and he thrust once, twice, three more times before she felt his hot release inside of her. Boneless, she slumped forward against him, but Bellamy’s arms kept her upright, and they stayed wrapped up in each other until the water ran cold. 

* * *

Later, when they were all seated around the fire, Jasper emerged from the showers, a towel around his neck and holding a bottle of shampoo. 

“Clarke, isn’t this the special shampoo you get from Paris or something? Why was it in the men’s showers?” he asked innocently. 

At that, both Clarke and Bellamy flushed a brilliant shade of red, to which Raven let out an obnoxious cheer and tossed a handful of marshmallows at both of them. Octavia rolled her eyes a muttered a  _“Finally,”_  under her breath. Bellamy just wrapped his arm around Clarke’s shoulders and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Hell yeah,” he whispered into her hair, “ _finally_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	20. Dad 2.0

**prompt:** "Clarke's dad doing the 'dad' thing to Bellamy when he comes to pick her up for a date."

* * *

Bellamy was going to sweat through his suit.

For one, he was wearing a  _suit_. He never wears suits. They’re too stuffy and formal and he’s itching to rip off his tie.

But he wanted to impress Mr. and Mrs. Griffin. He wanted to show up and woo them so they’d be proud of the man who was head over heels for their daughter. That meant putting on a suit, combing back his hair, and sitting through Jake Griffin’s version of the Spanish Inquisition.

“Plans for college?”

“I’ll be attending Mount Weather University in the fall, sir.”

“Mount Weather, hmm? Great school. Any reason why you’re staying local?”

“It’ll allow me to take care of my sister, sir. My mom works long hours and I’d like to be able to help out as best I can.”

“Good man. And your major?”

“I’d like to be a history teacher, sir. But I’d love to minor in mythology.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck. And Bellamy?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Quit calling me ‘sir’ and start calling me Jake.”

It was then that he cracked a smile and Bellamy finally relaxed. Jake stood up and shook his hand, and after Clarke appeared, looking magnificent in a soft pink sundress, he even clapped Bellamy on the shoulder and told them to have fun.

* * *

“My dad loves you,” Clarke whispered later that night, as Bellamy kissed down her throat, her fingers twisting into his dark locks. “My mom, too.”

“I did good?” Bellamy asked, smirking against her skin as one hand drifted up her leg and under the skirt of her dress. 

“Yeah,” Clarke panted as his fingers tickled her thighs. “You did real good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	21. Finn Collins

**prompt:** "Clarke 'my cheating ex bf is STILL trying to get back with me at my friend's wedding but im to busy riding the afterglow of having sex with my boyfriend in the bathroom to care and oh look he's coming this way' Griffin."

* * *

 _“Shh.”_  

Clarke moans against the palm covering her mouth. She’s always had a problem being quiet, and the three glasses of champagne plus the open bar at the reception hasn’t helped her self control. 

 _“You have to be quiet, Princess,”_  Bellamy murmurs, stroking her cheek lightly.

But she knows that he really wants her to be loud, because even though he has one hand covering her mouth, the other is between her legs, his dexterous fingers circling her clit as he takes her against the door. The very thin door of the ladies restroom, which happens to be loacted a few feet away from Table 13, where Clarke’s whiny ex-boyfriend is currently seated.

Finn Collins had spent three months wooing and ten months dating Clarke during her sophomore year of college, but it all quickly came to an end when his girlfriend of four years, Raven Reyes, surprised him by transferring to their university the following fall. After both Clarke and Raven kicked him to the curb and became best friends, he had become a pitiful thorn in their sides, pining after both of them in the most pathetic of ways.

Fast forward five years and Raven is slow-dancing with her new husband Kyle, Finn has already cornered Clarke twice and lamented the loss of their relationship with sad puppy dog eyes, and Bellamy is fucking her from behind so hard that she fears she won’t be able to walk right when it’s over.

She whimpers against his hand as she feels herself get closer, and his he knows her body better than he knows his, Bellamy speeds up his thrusts and pinches her clit and then she’s  _screaming_  and shaking and he can barely hold off long enough to work her through her own orgasm before his tears through him. 

They slump against the door, breathless. 

“You think anyone has noticed that we’ve been gone?” Clarke pants as Bellamy wets a towel and cleans them both up. 

“Well, if they haven’t noticed our absence they most defintely heard you,” he quips with a smirk. She playfully shoves his shoulder and moves to the mirror to fix her hair.

When they finally emerge, both looking thoroughly fucked and not at all presentable, they practically float back to their table, still riding their high.

“Clarke.”

Finn appears out of nowhere, frowning at Bellamy and looking to Clarke with pleading eyes. 

“We never got to finish our conversation earlier. I really think-”

“Look, Finn,” Clarke cuts him off, waving her hand. “We’re over. We’ve been over for five years. I have no desire to be with you, or even talk to you at this time.” 

She pauses at glances at Bellamy with a smirk.

“And quite frankly, Bellamy just gave me the best fuck of my life and I’d like to enjoy that high for a little bit longer and I can’t have you ruining our vibe, alright?”

Clarke pats his shoulder condescendingly before grabbing Bellamy’s hand and yanking him away, leaving Finn standing in the middle of the room looking utterly lost as they laugh their way back to their table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	22. Five Second Rule

**prompt:** "[(315):I fell off the bed in the middle of it, and he yelled '5 second rule' and kept fucking me. i think im in love ] DO WITH THAT WHAT YOU WILL"

* * *

A long night of dancing and drinking with their friends had led to a tipsy, uninhibited Clarke. It was one of Bellamy’s favorite Clarkes, right up there with excited Clarke and frustrated Clarke- her nose scrunched up and she got a little line in her forehead that was just  _adorable-_ and he was reaping its rewards.

“I love it when you ride me,” he panted as she moved on top of him. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted and her eyes tightly shut as she chased her second release of the night. “You look like a fucking goddess.”

Clarke hummed in appreciation and her eyes snapped open. Her pupils were blown so wide that Bellamy could hardly see the thin line of blue barely visible around the black. She was on her knees, straddling his torso as she moved up and down on his cock, her hands splayed across his chest. She pushed up on him then, giving herself the leverage she needed to bend her legs so that her feet were flat on the bed. 

Only her left foot got caught in the mussed blankets, and instead of gaining more momentum she lost it entirely, and in her less-than-sober state she couldn’t catch her balance quick enough and toppled off of him and onto the floor. 

Her breath left her with a shocked gasp and she looked up to Bellamy with wide eyes, expecting him to burst into laughter. But he didn’t skip a beat, rolling off the bed and onto the foor next to her.

“Five second rule,” he growled, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her from behind.

“Bellamy!” Clarke gasped when his fingers found her clit. Her head dropped to the floor and she rested her forehead on the cool wood as he pounded into her. The coil that had been winding itself tighter and tighter in her core was nearly ready to snap, and when Bellamy pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck, his teeth lightly scraping over her skin, she let it.

Clarke came hard, and the tightening of her hot, slick muscles around his length urged Bellamy to follow her. They collapsed, boneless, onto the floor next to their bed, and Clarke tucked herself into his side, resting her head on his chest. 

“I think I’m in love,” she mumbled to herself, already half-asleep. Bellamy wasn’t sure if he dreamed hearing those words or not, halfway unconscious himself, so he just pulled her close and nuzzled his nose into her hair, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent until they both fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	23. Walk In

**prompt:**  "Bellarke walk in on each other pleasuring themselves."

* * *

Maybe it was the extra cupfulls of moonshine they’d had over the fire, or maybe it was the longing stares they’d been giving each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking, or maybe it was all that plus the fact that this was all going to happen at some point anyway. Regardless of the reason, Bellamy was just ecstatic that this was finally happening.

He had ducked into Clarke’s tent unannounced, under the premise of retreiving the jacket he had left in there a few hours earlier, and had been shocked to find her splayed out on top of her blankets, one hand down the front of her pants and the other palming at her breats through her shirt. 

After the initial awkwardness of him stuttering out an apology and her flushing as red as the tomatoes Monty and Jasper had just succeeded at growing, he finally stuttered out:

“Do you want some help with that?”

He half expected her to throw something at him. But then she looked at him through hooded eyes and nodded shyly, biting her lip. 

Now here he was, his face buried between her legs and her hands tightly braided in his hair. He used his thumb and forefinger on his left hand to keep her pussy spread wide open as he devoured her, his tongue delving into her tight heat. He used his other thumb to rub tight circles on her clit, loving the way her cunt clenched around his tongue whenever he gave it a slight pinch. 

“Bellamy,  _fuck_ ,” Clarke moaned, loving the obscene sounds he was making as he ate ehr out, “I’m- _shit_ \- I’m so fucking close.”

And so he switched it up, instead shoving two fingers into her cunt and taking her clit into his mouth, fucking her with his fingers as he gently swirled his tongue around the sensitive nub. She came apart with a broken cry, a surge of wetness covering his fingers and her hands pulling almost painfully at his hair.

When she got too sensitive and weakly shoved him away, he stuck his fingers in his mouth and licked at her juices with a low moan.  

Bellamy kissed his way back up her body and curled up next to her on his side, his head propped up on his hand as he watched her come back to herself. Once her breathing returned to normal, she rolled onto her side to face him, a mischevious smirk gracing her face.

Her soft hand gently stroked his hardened length as she whispered to him:

“Do you want some help with that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	24. Flowers (Part I)

> **prompt:** “Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the 'girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft' and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard."
> 
> * * *

She decides that this is the last straw when she wakes up before the sun to him knocking over one of the terracotta pots in her garden. She hears him swear as she throws on her clothes and rushes downstairs, throwing open the back door and catching him with the a piece of cracked pot in one hand and a bunch of blue hydrangeas in the other.

“Please don’t call the cops,” is the first thing he says.

She smiles, leaning against the doorframe. “I won’t if you take me with you.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“You sneak into my garden at the asscrack of dawn a few times a month and steal my flowers, and now you’ve broken my favorite pot. If you don’t want me to have you arrested, you better let me come with you so I can see if this girl is pretty enough to warrant a good old fashioned B & E.”

His shoulders slump. The dim orange glow from the light above the door highlights the freckles that dance over the bridge of his nose. “Just call the cops, then.”

She frowns. “Sorry, that was a bit of a gender-normative question. Is it a guy?”

“No, it’s not.” He puts the remains of the pot down and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Just forget it. Call the cops, I don’t care.”

“Hey.” She steps out of the doorway and touches his arm. “I’m not going to call the cops. Relax. But she obviously means something to you, and I’d like to meet her. If anything, it’s just so she’ll know where those awesome flowers came from.”

He stares at her for a long while. His eyes are so dark she can barely make out his pupils. There’s a lot of pain in his gaze, and the longer he stares at her the more she thinks that perhaps this whole thing was a bad idea.

“Fine,” he finally says. “But Pudge gets shotgun.”

* * *

Pudge, as it turns out, is a fat little pug who pants at them from the front seat as they approach his car. She slides into the backseat, pushing a stack of papers out of the way and onto the floor.

“Sorry,” she says, catching his eye in the rearview as they pull away from the curb. She tries to restack them but he just shrugs.

“They don’t matter anymore, anyway.”

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she plows on. “So, I didn’t take you for the type of guy to have a pug, let alone to name him Pudge.”

“He’s not mine,” he grunts. Pudge whines, and he takes one hand off the wheel to scratch behind his ears. “Well, I guess he is. But I didn’t pick him out, or name him.”

“Let me guess. She did?”

He makes a sharp left.  “That she did.”

The sun is just starting to rise as they merge onto the highway.

“So, do you live around here or do you trek out this way just to steal my flowers at five in the morning?”

“I live one block behind you. I can see your garden from my back porch.” He smirks. “I used to climb the fence, but I got tired of the splinters.”

She rolls her eyes, and Pudge- surprisingly agile, despite his figure- hops into the backseat and climbs into her lap.

“So, if you’ve known about me all this time, why pick today to call me out?” he asks as he flicks on his turn signal and merges off the highway.

She shrugs. “You broke my favorite pot.”

* * *

They drive around back roads for about ten minutes before he breaks the silence.

“This probably wasn’t what you were expecting, was it?” he asks somberly. She looks up from scratching Pudge’s belly and gasps when she sees him pull up to a cemetery.

“No,” she murmurs, swallowing thickly. “No, it wasn’t.”

Her stomach flips and flops as they get out of the car and start walking. He’s clutching the blue hydrangeas in both hands, and she takes control of Pudge’s leash. The dog seems to know where to go, and she doesn’t want to think of how many times he’s traveled this route before.

“What’s your name?” she asks, suddenly realizing that she doesn’t know.

“Bellamy,” he tells her. “Bellamy Blake. You?”

“Raven Reyes.”

Pudge stops in front of a headstone, and Bellamy clears his throat.

“Well, Raven Reyes, meet Clarke Griffin.”

Pudge curls up at the base of the stone, and Bellamy kneels down to rest the hydrangeas against it.

“They were her favorite,” he explains. “They matched her eyes. She wanted them to be her ‘something blue’ at our wedding.”

Raven sits down beside him. There are a million things she could say, but somehow she knows that Bellamy Blake does not want her condolences. So she asks, “What’s your favorite memory of her?”

He looks at her, eyes wide with surprise. After thinking for a moment, he smiles.

“I proposed to her at- don’t laugh, okay, she loved them- a Fall Out Boy concert. They were her favorite band and I got her the tickets for her birthday. I was down on my knee during her favorite song, and just as I was about to ask her, some drunk idiot stumbled into us and threw up all over my shoes. Before I could even do anything, she turned around and punched him across the face and was like, ‘Hey asshole, you just ruined his proposal!’”

Bellamy chuckles, plucking at the grass below him. “I was just kneeling there, partially grossed out because he barfed on me and partially freaking out because now what was I going to do and then Clarke just knelt down in front of me, vomit and all, said yes without ever hearing my question, and slipped the ring onto her finger.”

Raven scoots closer and nudges him. “She sounds like a badass.”

“She would have liked you,” Bellamy murmurs, resting his head on her shoulder. “She would have liked you a whole lot.”

Despite the tears pricking at her eyes, Raven finds it in her to smile. “I think I would have liked her, too.”

* * *

**Clarke E. Griffin**

**1992-2013**

**May We Meet Again**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	25. Eirene

**prompt:** "Fluffly Clarke and Bellamy baby fic, if you haven't gotten one of those already. Modern or otherwise. Basically, after the finale, I need some happy 100."

* * *

 

“You know, I’d like to hold my daughter before I’m old and gray.”

Bellamy grunted, not looking away from the tiny bundle in his arms. He bent his neck so he could nuzzle the dark tufts of hair peaking out from the blankets. “You held her for nine months, Clarke. Just give me a few more minutes.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile as she propped herself up on the pillows. She patted the spot next to her on the bed.

“At least bring her over here.”

Bellamy stood up, carefully cradling his daughter as he moved over to Clarke. He slid into bed beside her, angling the baby so that Clarke could see her face. 

“Hi there,” Clarke cooed, tracing the slope of her daughter’s nose with her index finger. The infant sighed in her sleep and Clarke’s heart lurched. “I love you so much, baby girl.”

“She’s going to need a name,” Bellamy mused, leaning over to kiss the crown of Clarke’s head.

“I’m sure you have half a dozen picked out already, so spill.”

Bellamy laughed lightly. “Only one.”

Their daughter stirred, her nose scrunching up adorably in a way that had both her parents in awe. 

“Well?” Clarke prompted after watching her for a moment.

“Eirene,” Bellamy said with a grin. “The goddess of peace.”

“Peace.” Clarke rested her head on his shoulder. “I like the sound of that.”

Eirene stirred again, her eyes opening for a moment and giving her parents a glimpse of their brilliant blue before they closed again and her body shook with a yawn. 

Bellamy clutched her tighter. “I think she does, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	26. Tickling

**prompt:** "Could you do a little smut with modern bellarke? (I don't know they could be a couple in college)"

* * *

 

“Stop it!” Clarke laughed. “Bellamy, I’m serious!”

He removed his lips from her neck. “So am I,” he said before resuming his oh-so important task of leaving hickeys all over her throat. 

That wasn’t his only agenda, though. His hands were planted firmly on her waist, and albeit their original intent was to guide her hips as she grinded on top of him, they were now digging into her sides, tickling her relentlessly.

“Please, Bell!” Clarke wheezed, trying to swat his hands away but laughing too hard to be effective. He chuckled against his throat and stilled his fingers.

“Fine, fine!” Bellamy said, pulling back so that they were face to face, her legs wrapped around his waist. “But if I can’t make you laugh, I plan to make you scream.”

If there was one thing Clarke Griffin knew about Bellamy Blake, it was that he always stuck to the plan.

He was also a ridiculously fast worker. He had her stripped naked and spread out beneath him on his bed in under two minutes, which, Clarke realized offhand, had to be a new record for them. 

“You were so sexy today when you yelled at Finn in the quad,” Bellamy practically growled as he kissed down her stomach. His large, rough hands parted her thighs and he blew over her already soaked cunt, making her tremble.

He was referring to the incident that occured a few hours earlier, when Clarke and Bellamy had met Raven and her new boyfriend Kyle in the quad for lunch. Finn, both of the girls’ ex-boyfriend, had wandered over and made a bitchy comment that had both women seeing red. Clarke, surprisingly, had beat Raven to the punch and chewed him out in front of half the campus of Ark University.

Bellamy had never been more turned on in his life.

“You liked that?” Clarke asked, grabbing a fistful of his hair when he gave her slit a long lick, curling his tongue at the end to catch her clit. 

“Fuck yes,” he moaned against her, his deep voice sending delicious vibrations through her core. He slipped one long finger inside her and crooked it just the way he knew she liked it, the way that made her back arch and her breath catch.

“Shit!” Clarke gasped when he inserted another finger and started to worry her clit with his tongue. “Yes, just like that, Bell. Oh,  _fuck._ ”

The hand that wasn’t between her legs trailed up her body to grab her breast. She covered it with her own, desperate for something to hold on to as he drove her closer and closer to her orgasm.

Bellamy lifted his mouth from her cunt, his lips and chin shining with her wetness. “I love how you taste,” he groaned, licking his lips and smirking. “I love eating your sweet pussy and tasting you on my lips for hours after. Sometimes, I sit in class and lick my lips the whole time, thinking about you came all over them and just trying to taste you one last time.”

Clarke whined and shifted her hips, desperate for more friction. He twisted his figners inside her, knowing she was close. 

“You gonna come for me?” He flicked her clit a few times with his tongue again before circling it with his thumb. “Your pussy is so tight around my fingers, baby. Do you like when I talk dirty to you?”

“You-you know I do,” Clarke said. Her grip on his hair tightened. “ _Fuck_ , Bellamy!”

She came with a cry that sounded like it was caught between a groan and a shriek, shuddering and shaking around his fingers. When she was done riding the wave and just trembling with the aftershocks, Bellamy licked his fingers clean and pressed a gentle kiss to her sensitive clit. 

“I should yell at Finn more often,” Clarke muttered breathlessly. Laughing, Bellamy pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“Hell yeah, you should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	27. Raven

**prompt:** "Bellarke + 'i flirted with you using the name on your starbucks cup and we've been friends for like 2 months but i just met your friends and they are calling you a completely different name as you explain to me how you use fake names at starbucks but were too embarrassed to tell me wtf man'"

* * *

 

Bellamy was seated at the bar, chatting with the bartender. Miller had been his roommate in college and now that he worked at Grounders, their friendship now included free beers. Bellamy was waiting for Raven, the beautiful blonde nurse he’d been sort of seeing for the past two months. She was meeting him there for drinks that night, and bringing a friend along.

At about a quarter to eight, Bellamy felt eyes on him. 

“Hey.” A tanned girl with dark hair sidled up to him and smiled. “Are you Clarke’s friend?”

“Clarke?” Bellamy frowned. “No. I’m waiting for my friend Raven, sorry.”

Now it was the girl’s turn to frown. “Raven? I’m Raven. Are you Bellamy?”

“Yes…” he said slowly. “You’re Raven’s friend?”

“No, I am  _Raven_ , dumbass,” she snapped. “My friend, the blonde one with big boobs and an attitude to match? That’s Clarke.”

The blonde in question chose that moment to walk through the doors, her expression sheepish.

“Hey!” she said, her eyes darting back and forth between them nervously.

“Clarke, why does this guy think your name is Raven?”

Bellamy stared at her in shock. “Your name is  _Clarke_?”

“Hey, what’s wrong with her name-”

“Raven,” Clarke said, raising her hand to silence her friend. “This is all my fault. Let me explain.”

Raven crossed her arms but was silent.

“Bellamy and I met about two months ago, that day we went to Starbucks after I finished that terrible double shift, do you remember?”

Raven nodded. Clarke looked to Bellamy and bit her lip.

“Well, I didn’t get anything to drink but you did, Raven, and your mom called as we were waiting and you went outside to take the call so when they called your name I took your cup. I almost crashed into Bellamy walking away, and we got to talking while I was waiting for you. He saw your name written on my cup and kept calling me Raven and-” Her blue eyes were wide and her expression apologetic as she continued, “-I don’t really know why I didn’t correct you, Bellamy. I was exhausted and not thinking straight and by it just sprialed out of control, I guess. I had no idea how to tell you.”

“So, this was your solution? Having me meet the real Raven? Or were you going to call her Clarke?” Bellamy asked, frowning. 

Clarke sighed and looked at the ground. “This was…the only thing I could think of. I am so sorry, Bellamy. I totally understand if you never want to speak to me again.”

Bellamy turned back to the bar and grabbed his glass, draining it in one gulp. Then he looked back to Clarke and Raven, staring at him, one with hope and the other with appreehenson.  

“I don’t really want to talk to Raven anymore,” Bellamy said slowly, and Clarke’s face fell even more. But then she noticed the smile slowly spreading across his face. “But I’d love to talk to Clarke, if I could meet her properly.”

She flushed and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Clarke Griffin.”

“Bellamy Blake.” He gripped her tiny hand in his and squeezed. “Now, Clarke Griffin. Can I buy you a drink?”

The real Raven pretended to gag and rolled her eyes. But she drank with them for the rest of the night, and she even managed to catch the eye of a scruffy blonde playing pool in the corner. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	28. Disproving the Stereotype

**prompt:** "Bellarke proves why married sex is better!!"

* * *

He had heard and seen the evidence in nearly every facet of his life: marriage makes things worse for every couple. Cute banter over who gets to chose the movie turns into full-blown arguments over money. Cuddling as they fall asleep turns into sleeping with their backs to each other on their respective sides of the bed. Fantatsic sex turns into boring- or even nonexistent- lovemaking. Bellamy had been deadset against marriage for the longest time.

Then he met Clarke Griffin.

They had been married almost five years, and together for nearly ten, and he couldn’t be happier. They did fight over money, and he’s ashamed to admit that there’s been a handful of nights where one of them had slept on the couch, but if anything, their love has grown stronger.

Plus, the sex is  _phenomenal_.

Clarke had mentioned once, back when they had just started dating, that she was scared of growing old and having her husband find her unattractive. Now, 28 was hardly considered old (especially compared to his 33) but Bellamy knew she was a bit self-conscious about the bits of her that might not be as tight and toned as they were when she was 18. He didn’t understand why. Each day he looked at her one thousand times and saw her one thousand different ways.

Ethereal, the way she looked each morning as she slept and he had to drag himself out of bed and away from her. 

Adorable, the way her eyes lit up when he woke her up with a cup of coffe and the way her eyes closed and her nose scrunched up when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Beautiful, the way she looked when she walked through the front door after a long shift at the hospital, her hair in a messy bun and her eyes red, and smiled when she saw him making dinner in the kitchen.

Sexy, the way her back arched and her eyes closed and her mouth formed a perfect O when he was above her, thrusting into her deliciously tight heat. Or the way her thighs trembled when they were locked around his head while he fucked her cunt with his tongue. Or the way her perfect breasts bounced when she rode him, her head thrown back in pleasure. 

He had a certain appreciation for the way they were now, with Clarke bent over the kitchen counter and him fucking her furiously from behind. Twenty minutes earlier she had been leaning over, resting her elbows on the granite as she flipped through a magazine, her perfectly rounded ass in ther air. Bellamy hadn’t been able to control himself and had her naked and pressed against the cool countertop in minutes.

“Bellamy!” she gasped when he reached between them to rub her clit. “Fuck! Just like that!”

Never one to disobey his wife, Bellamy complied. His fingers were insistent over her clit as his cock hit that spot deep inside her that had her see stars over and over again. She came with a strangled cry and the tightening of her cunt around him caused him to follow moments later, moaning her name.

Instead of slumping against the countertop, Clarke stood upright and pressed her back to her husband’s front, reveling in the security of his warm, solid frame. 

“Think that did it?” he murmured into the crook of her neck with labored breaths.

Clakre grinned, and covered his hands with his and gently brought them over to rest on her still-flat stomach. 

“I hope so.”

(It did.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	29. Perfect

**prompt:** "Bellarke getting married with Bellamy not being nervous at all because he just loves Clarke so much."

* * *

 

“You good, man?” Miller murmured when the music started. 

Bellamy grinned at his best man. “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he said, almost in disbelief. 

The first couple turned the corner and started down the aisle. It was Lincoln, his sister’s fiance, partnered with Lexa. Clarke’s ex-girlfriend. They had remained great friends after their break-up, so Bellamy wasn’t surprised when she was asked to be a bridesmaid. 

Lincoln winked at him before taking unlinking his arm from Lexa’s and moving to the side, next to Miller. Lexa couldn’t help but smile and lean in as she passed him.

“She looks amazing.”

Next came Murphy and Monroe, followed closely by Monty and Harper. Nathan stood up straighter when his boyfriend came into view, and Bellamy shot him a knowing look. 

He knew most men in his position would have been nervous wrecks, and he had expected to be, but he was strangely calm. This was it, he figured. This was where he was supposed to be. Loving Clarke was as easy as breathing. 

Octavia and Raven came down the aisle last, arm in arm, strutting like it was the catwlak in Milan. The maids-of-honor were smiling so wide you’d think it was their own wedding. When they reached the end of the aisle, Octavia hopped forward to smack a kiss to Lincoln’s lips before scurrying off to the side. She had to drag Raven with her, since she had stopped and was blowing kisses to her infant son, who was being bounced on Wick’s lap in the front row. 

Finally, Clarke turned the corner, arm in arm with her stepfather, Marcus. Bellamy was momentarily saddened by the fact that her real father couldn’t be the one walking her down the aisle, but Marcus Kane was a good man and he loved Clarke as his own. 

The thought was pushed away once his eyes settled on his bride. Her dress was simple but elegant; long and white with lacey sleeves and train that dragged behind her. With her blonde curls woven intrictaely at the nape of her neck, with just a few strands framing her beautiful face, she looked ever the princess.

His heart may have skipped a beat or two when she grinned at him from down the aisle. With every step closer to him that she took he loved her infinitely more.

When she finally reached him, he immediately grabbed her hands. They were trembling slightly, and he frowned.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her palms.

Clarke took a deep breath and smilied, squeezing his hands. “I’m great. Just excited. You?”

Jasper, who had gotten his clerical lisence online and insisted on proceeding, began to speak. Bellamy’s voice dropped even lower when he answered, his eyes shining already with unshed tears:

“Perfect.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	30. Squirting (Part I)

**prompt:** "Bellamy finds out that Clarke is a squirter and he loves it."

* * *

They had been together for almost two months when it happened. 

Clarke had one leg thrown over Bellamy’s shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist, resting just above the curve of his perfectly rounded ass as he pounded into her. Her hair was splayed out behind her on his makeshift mattress, fanning her head in a blonde halo as she writhed beneath him.

 _“Yes,_  Bellamy,” she panted out when he changed his angle slightly.  _"Oh!_ Rightthererightthererightthere!”

Bellamy gritted his teeth and thrust into her harder. The sight of her beneath him will always be the hottest thing he’s ever seen, and as content as he’d be staring at her forever, the view did questionable things to his stamina and he’d be damned if she came before he did. So he snaked a hand between them and found her clit with a practiced grace and rubbed it hurriedly.

It was like any other mind-blowing night they had spent together. Until it wasn’t.

Clarke’s moans suddenly got breathier and more high-pitched. She started practically thrashing around- not that she was ever  _still_  when they fucked, but her movements almost had Bellamy worried. His grip on her hip tightened. 

"Bell,” she moaned. “Bellamy, I-”

“You gonna come for me?” he grunted, pressing a kiss to the side of her leg. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead and onto her skin. “You’re so wet for me right now, baby. Feels so good.”

“I-I feel-” Clarke’s eyes snapped open and locked with her love’s. “Holy shit!”

She pushed him off her suddenly and dropped her own hand between her legs. Bellamy sat back on his heels, confused and alarmed for only a moment until he saw what she was doing.

Clarke rubbed her clit furiously, and after no more than four seconds her back was arching and her legs tensing and she was coming and  _holy shit_  a gush of fluid dripped from her pussy and onto the sheets. 

Bellamy came without even touching his cock.

“Oh my God,” Clarke panted. “That was…I’m sorry, that’s never happened before, I-”

Bellamy cut her off my surging forward and locking their lips together. Clarke melted beneath him, letting his tongue win its battle for dominace, still weak from her orgasm. 

“Do not apologize for that,” he hissed before kissing her again. His right hand slipped between her thighs and felt the warm slickness there. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. You’ve never done that before?”

“N-No,” Clarke stammered, a blush coloring her cheeks. “I was feeling really good and then all of a sudden the sensation was just too much and I just…”

“Squirted,” Bellamy finished for her. Clarke slapped his arm.

“Ew, don’t say that! It sounds weird.”

He laughed as he pressed kisses down the length of her throat. “That’s what you did, Princess,” he murmured against the swell of her breast. “Think you can do it again?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, partially out of annoyance and partially from pleasure as swiped the flat of his tongue over her left nipple and then blew on her heated skin.

“I can try,” she said wryly.

“That’s all I need.” Bellamy kissed down her stomach in quick succession and then used his large hands to spread her legs so they framed his head. He gave the length of her slit a long lick and then swirled the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit, smirking when she flopped down onto the mattress and fisted his hair in her hand.

_This was going to be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	31. Squirter (Part II)

**prompt:** "I was wondering if you were planning on writing a sequel to that fic where Clarke is a squirter? Thanks!"

* * *

Jasper is the first one to notice that something is off. 

“Hey, Monty,” he says, nudging his best friend. “Is Clarke walking funny?”

They peer over the fire to where the blonde is emerging from the med bay. Though she doesn’t seem to be favoring one leg over the other, the way her body is moving implies that there is a source of discomfort. 

“Bellamy, what happened to Clarke?” Monty asks. Bellamy looks up from the maps he’s studying as his partner- in every way- approaches them.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s walking weird,” Jasper says. 

At this, Bellamy grins wickedly. He chuckles to himself in a way that solidifies Jasper and Monty’s belief that he knows something they don’t. 

“She’s fine,” is all Bellamy says. Soon she reaches the fire and drops down beside them and all is forgotten.

Later that night is a different story. 

Clarke’s face is buried in the pillows to muffle her screams. Her knees shake with the effort of keeping her body half-upright, and her arms are limp around her head, having long since given up the fight. Bellamy’s hands grip her waist so tight there are bound to be bruises in the morning but she doesn’t care, she’s too overwhelmed by the fact that he’s  _pounding_  into her and she’s already come three times and she might pass out from sheer pleasure before she comes again. 

Ever since that one night over a week ago Bellamy has been an (obsessed) man on a mission. She hadn’t been able to squirt since then and was highly doubtful that she would ever be able to again, but she has kept tight-lipped about that. 

 _“That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he had told her after he had lapped up all evidence of the event, his mouth and chin shining with her juices. Clarke, who was still a bit embarrassed over the whole thing, had just blushed and pulled him in for a kiss._  

She figures that Bellamy will give up his quest eventually, but for now she is quite keen on letting him literally fuck her brains out every night while he tried.

“Roll over,” he growls, pulling out of her and sitting back on his heels. Clarke whines at the loss of him but does as he says, flopping onto her back to stare at him with half-lidded eyes. Bellamy lifts her up easily, as if she weighed nothing, and positions her over his cock. 

Clarke wraps her arms loosely around his neck and drapes herself over him as she sinks down on his length. Boneless from her many orgasms, she lets him do most of the work as she mewls and whines into the skin of his neck. His hands grip her supple ass as he guides her up and down, up and down, up and down, pistoning his hips upwards as he goes. 

After a particularly well-aimed thrust hits a spot inside of Clarke that makes her throw her head back and moan, Bellamy loses all inhibitions. He thrusts up into her wildly, and after hitting  _that spot_  a few times Clarke grips his shoulders and begins to ride him with vigor.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Bellamy pants, leaning forward to kiss her throat. “Ride me hard, baby.”

Clarke reaches down with one hand to rub her clit, desperate for more fritcion. Bellamy sees this and his eyes roll back.

” _Yes_ ,” he groans, “touch yourself, Clarke. I want to feel you come all over my cock, come on.”

If she wasn’t close before, she sure as hell is now. Bellamy was a dirty talker, something Clarke never though she’d be in to, but after hearing him the first time they were together, she was sold. There was something about the way he whispers things to her, the dirtiest, kinkiest,  _hottest_  things she’s ever heard, that brings her close to the edge almost immediately. 

“Bell-Bellamy,” Clarke pants, her motions becoming more frantic and less coordinated. “Oh god, _Bellamy_.”

"You’re gonna come,” Bellamy growls against her skin. “I can feel how tight your pussy’s getting, baby. Fuck. Come for me, Clarke. Come  _now_.”

That’s when she feels it, that hot, throbbing pressure inside her that makes her scream when her orgasm hits her. She barely is able to push herself off of his cock when she feels the rush of fluid leave her pussy, and Bellamy gasps.

Clarke latches onto him for dear life and buries her face in the crook of his neck as she comes, and he immediately starts rubbing her clit, drawing every last bit out of her. He’s speaking, mumbling something to her as she shakes in his arms, but she can’t hear anything over the roaring in her ears. 

Finally, he lays her down gently, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. He’s staring down at his lap and hand in amazement, and she can see his skin shining with her juices. When he looks up, their eyes meet and she offers him a sheepish grin.

His cock is still hard, and she motions for him to come to her. Clarke sits up slightly and fists the base of his cock with her tiny hand. He’s shiny and sticky, and when she licks up the length of his shaft, she can taste herself on him.

It doesn’t take long for Bellamy to come. Clarke takes his cock in her mouth and licks him clean, and soon enough he’s spurting his hot, thick cum down her throat. She swallows everything he gives her and then releases his cock with a  _pop_.

"You. Are. Magnificent.” Bellamy collapses next to her and immediately draws her into his arms. “I love you, you know. 

Clarke rests her head on his chest kisses the spot above his heart. It’s the first time he’s spoken the words, but she’s known it to be true for a while.

"I know,” she whispers. “I love you, too.”

They both fall asleep with dopey, sated grins on their faces. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	32. Squirting (Part III)

**prompt:** "Clarke is a squirter part 3???" + "Fics where Bellamy goes down on Clarke are everything..."

* * *

Between negotiations with the  _Trigedakru_  and training new guard recruits at Camp Jaha, Clarke and Bellamy have barely had five minutes with each other before they were either falling asleep or running off to more meetings. After almost two weeks of non-stop running around, they finally have the night to themselves. Miller took over training for the night and Lexa, sensing Clarke’s exhaustion and eager to get back in her good graces, adjourned their meeting early. 

They arrive back at their tent within minutes of each other. Clarke slips in first, and she immediately kicks off her boots and hangs her jacket up on the back of the wooden chair Bellamy had fashioned for her about a month earlier. She’s stepping out of her jeans when she hears his tell-tale heavy footfalls behind her, and she grins.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she says, bending over at the waist and taking her time pulling the material off her legs.

“Not long, I hope,” Bellamy grunts, his eyes raking appreciately up and down her frame.

Clarke turns around, clad in only her shirt and underwear. Her eyes are dark, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Too long.”

They attack each other, a flurry of limbs and lips and clothes practically being ripped off their bodies. Once they are both naked, Bellamy lifts Clarke so she sits at the edge of their table, their heads level. His hand snakes between them and he thumbs at her clit as she places wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. When she nips at sensitive skin above his collarbone, he groans and slips a finger inside her. 

“No more teasing,” Clarke pants, “it’s been too long.”

Bellamy doesn’t need to be told twice. He gives her a wicked smile as he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks her slickness off his finger, and then, without any further hesitation, he presses her back down against the table and slides his cock inside her hot, soaking cunt. 

“ _Yes_ , Bell,” Clarke moans. Bellamy links their hands together on opposite sides of her head as he thrusts into her, hard and fast and she’s so wet because it’s been  _so long_  and then-

"Bellamy!” Her orgasm hits her hard and unexpectedly, and he guides her through it, slowing his thrusts and whispering sweet words in her ear. When she finally relaxes, Bellamy pulls out of her and kisses down her body. Clarke whines at the loss of contact but the sound is soon replaced with a moan when he laves at her nipple and tugs it slightly with his teeth. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says as he presses feather light kisses over the smooth planes of her stomach. He spreads her legs with his warm, calloused hands, and smirks up at her when he kneels between her thighs. “I love tasting your pussy after you come for me.”

Clarke shudders, not at the words he says, but in anticipation of the words to come. The foul, dirty things Bellamy says to her when they’re together never fail to do sinful things to her body. 

He uses his thumbs to spread her cunt as he gives her slit one long lick, curling his tongue to catch her clit. Clarke keens and grabs fistfuls of his dark locks, keeping his head in place as he devours her. He spells his name with his tongue as he worries her clit, then he takes the nub between his lips and sucks on it,  _hard_ , until Clarke lets out a broken moan. He pierces her cunt with his tongue, lapping up her wetness, making the most obscene noises and moaning against her heated flesh. 

“You’re fucking delicious,” he pants, pulling back and looking up at her with his chin and lips shinning. He slips his index and middle finger inside her and curls them, hitting that spot he knows drives her wild. “I could eat your sweet pussy forever.”

“By all means,” Clarke gasps, grinding against his fingers, and Bellamy laughs.

“You’re always so wet for me. You hear that? Can you hear my fingers slipping inside your cunt? Because you’re fucking dripping, baby.”

Clarke’s eyes roll back when he twists his fingers so he hits that spot just right. Bellamy arches an eyebrow. 

“That’s the spot isn’t it?” He tongues her clit until her back arches off the table and her grip on his hair is almost painful. 

“Y-yes,” Clarke moans, even though he already knows. “Bellamy, I’m-”

“I want you to squirt for me, baby,” Bellamy growls against her cunt. He slips a third finger inside her. “Can you do that? Can you squirt for me when you come?”

Clarke looks down at him, his hair as wild as his eyes, the muscles in his arms rippling as his fingers fuck her. She feels the fire inside her, the throbbing heat spreading from her core to her fingertips, the familiar, delicious burn, and she knows.

“Yes,” she cries, “yes, _yes! Bellamy, fuck_!”

She shatters around his mouth, and he laps up everything he gives her like a man dying of thirst. Her juices spill over and run down his chin, but he doesn’t care, never stopping his assault on her sopping cunt. 

"Bellamy, you’re fucking amazing,” Clarke whimpers as she comes down from her high.

He pulls his lips away from her pussy with a wet  _smack_. “Not half as amazing as you, love.”

Barely giving her time to recover, Bellamy picks her up off the table and lays her down on their bed. Clarke’s thighs are still trembling as he settles between them, and she weakly tugs on the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. He slips inside her heat easily as she licks herself off his tongue, and his thrusts are hard as he chases his own release. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers against her lips. She whimpers and her walls clench around him. Bellamy comes with a strangled groan, and she welcomes the weight of his body when he collapses on top of her.

Clarke mumbles her agreement and lazily begins to comb through his hair with her fingers, already beginning to drift off. Bellamy chuckles and presses a kiss to the hollow of her throat. They’re both asleep within minutes, still wrapped around each other with no intention of letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	33. Squirting (Part IV)

**prompt:** "Squirter Clarke part 4? ;)"

* * *

Clarke could tell that Bellmay was a bit frustrated. He never said anything, and the sex they had was never anything short of mindblowing, but Clarke knew him, and his body language showed that he was a bit irritated. She also knew exactly what was bothering him. 

She hadn’t done  _it_  in weeks.

Clarke understood; she was a tad frustrated herself. As much as it would thrill Bellamy, they both knew she couldn’t squirt every time they had sex. There was no rhyme or reason to it. But Bellamy though it was the hottest thing in the world, and after she swallowed her initial embarrassment, Clarke found that she was pretty partial to it, as well. Though she suspected that a lot of that was due to the fact that after she did it, Bellamy would spend an exorbitant amount of time with his head between her legs, making sure not a single drop went to waste.

Perhaps it was the weeks of pent-up frustration, or the extra cupfulls of Monty’s moonshine that they’d both had at the bonfire earlier that night, or maybe even a bit of both, but something snapped inside of Bellamy. He was absolutely instiable.

The moment they stepped inside their cabin he tore her clothes off and practically threw her onto their bed. Then he kissed down her neck and laved at her breasts until she was so on edge that the first flick of his tongue on her clit has her coming hard. He stayed between her legs, making obscene sounds as he voraciously ate her cunt, until she came a second time. 

Boneless from her intense orgasms, Bellamy easily rolled Clarke over and positioned himself behind her. When he slid his thick cock inside her, she let out a high-pitched whine and arched back against him.

“Fuck,” Bellamy hissed, slipping his right arm between the mattress and her stomach so his fingers could tease her clit. “You’re always so wet for me, Clarke.”

He encircled both of her wrists with his left hand and pinned them above her head against the mattress. Clarke was flat on her stomach, her face twisted to the side so she could breathe- or rather, gasp- as he pounded into her. Bellamy’s lips were right at her ear, and he was whispering the most filthy things to her as she climbed higher and higher.

_“I love how you taste when you come. I could eat that sweet pussy of yours forever.”  
_

_“I wish you knew how amazing you feel around my cock, baby. It’s like we were fucking made for each other. You’re so tight and wet all the time.”  
_

_“You have the most perfect tits, Clarke. I love how sensitive they are. You almost came from me sucking on your nipples. Do you think you could do that? Hmm? If I kept going, do you think you would’ve come for me?_

Clarke could barely form a response. He was drilling her into the mattress- she suspected she would have trouble walking the next few days-  and saying all the foul things he knew she loved. Her lips were parted, letting out a steady stream of whines and moans. 

“Y-es,” she finally manages. “I would’ve come for you, Bell.”

She could practically see his wicked smirk. “I know.”

Then his fingers were gone from her clit and his right hand gripped the ample flesh of her ass and squeezed. 

“Fuck, you have the nicest ass, baby. I don’t pay enough attention to it, do I?” This time he brought his hand down in a stinging slap against her skin.

Clarke’s cunt throbbed.

“You like that? Shit, I could feel your pussy clench around me. You like it when I play with your ass, Clarke?”

He slipped one finger between her cheeks and brushed it gently over her back hole. Clarke’s breath hitched and Bellamy slowed down his thrusts.

“This okay?” he murmured lowly, lightly niping the shell of her ear.

Clarke nodded. “ _Please_ , Bell, don’t stop.”

Bellamy grinned. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

He picked up speed again, impaling her with his cock over and over again, hitting the soft spot inside of her every time. His finger teased her back hole for a few moments as Clarke’s moans grew louder. When he finally slipped one long digit inside her tight hole, her third orgasm ripped through her without warning. 

Whenever she had squirted in the past, the sensation had been too much, and Clarke had to stop the penetration before coming. But this time took them both by surprise, and Bellamy was still pounding into her when she came, releasing a huge gush of fluid around his cock. 

A shriek ripped its way out of Clarke as she came, her whole body convulsing and her cunt squeezing Bellamy’s cock, causing him to release as well.  Clarke couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or shut because she saw stars as she rode out the most intense orgasm of her entire life, overwhelmed and overstimulated.

After, still trembling with the aftershocks, Clarke propped her head up on a shaky arm and arched an eyebrow at Bellamy, who was spread out on his back, his arms crossed behind his head.

“Are you happy now?” she asked, rolling her eyes when he feigned innocence.

“I’m always happy with you, Clarke,” he answer cheekily. 

“You’re an ass.” She smacked his chest lightly and then cuddled into it, throwing a leg over his waist and pressing her cheek to the spot above his heart. 

“But you love me.” His arm encircled her waist and pulled her closer. 

“Sometimes I wonder why.”

“Because I make you come so hard you squirt.” One hand snaked between her legs and his middle finger swiped up the length of her slit, gathering the embarrassing amount of wetness that still lingered there. Clarke’s whole body twitched when the pad of his finger brushed her clit, and Bellamy chuckled. 

“Oh! That reminds me…”

He started the cycle all over again, kissing every inch of her body before spreading her legs and settling between them, licking and sucking until she could remember nothing but his name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	34. Squirting (Part V)

I’ve been nominated for the  **Bellarke Fanfiction Awards!!**  Please vote for me and all the other amazing writers  **[here](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/vote). **

* * *

 **prompt:** Clarke squirter pt.5?!?!?!

* * *

A search party had scavenged another bunker in the area last week and returned with some much needed new clothes. Clarke had been wearing one of the salvaged articles during the Council meeting, a thin maroon tank top with a plunging neckline that stuck to her sweaty skin (the heat had not been kind to them lately), and it had been driving Bellamy crazy. She had lightly dragged her pen along the length of her collarbones as she listened to her mother speak, occassionally biting on the tip of it when the Chancellor said something that she disapproved of. 

At one point, she had gathered up her blonde curls and held them above the nape of her neck, fanning herself with her free hand. Bellamy had watched from across the table as a bead of sweat dripped down from behind her ear, down the column of her throat, and disappeared down her shirt. He ached to follow the same path with his tongue. 

He did. After the meeting adjourned and the door was locked, he had Clarke stripped naked and splayed out before him on the cool metal of the table, and he tasted her way down her body until she was coming undone on his tongue. While she was still boneless, he shucked off his shirt and pants and slid his hard cock into her dripping pussy. He had to take a second to make sure he didn’t come then and there, because she felt like heaven. 

“You gotta quiet down, baby,” Bellamy whispered into her ear as he pounded into her. “Engineering is right across the hall. You gotta be quiet so Raven doesn’t hear you.”

Clarke whimpered, trying to pull him closer. Bellamy pulled back to look her in the eye, grinning wickedly.

“Or maybe you do want her to hear you?” Clarke bit her lip, blushing, and Bellamy’s grin widened. “You want her to hear you scream when you come?”

He changed his angle, throwing her right leg over his shoulder. Clarke’s eyes rolled back in her head as he fucked her deeper, harder, hitting that spot that made her see stars. 

“I can feel your cunt clenching around me, Clarke,” Bellamy growled, “I know that turns you on. You want people to hear you getting fucked?”

“No, I don’t-” Clarke panted. She gripped his shoulders tightly, and he knew she was close. 

“You just want Raven to hear you?” 

Clarke didn’t answer, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Bellamy decided to go in for the kill. 

“Do you want her to join us next time?”

She screamed as she came, her whole body tensing up and her back arching off the table. Bellamy pulled out of her and fisted his cock in his hand, rubbing her clit with the head as she gushed and squirted all over the table and his hand. He came with a low groan onto her stomach, and then collapsed on top of her. 

She could only stand the weight of him, all hot and sweaty on top of her, for a few seconds before she shoved him off. 

“This was a bad idea,” Clarke panted. “It’s nearly 100 degrees out. We should be cooling down.”

“I’m game for skinny dipping if you are,” Bellamy mumbled. Clarke rolled her eyes and stood up, wincing as her sweaty skin stuck to the table. 

After cleaning themselves up, they exited the meeting room quietly, trying not to drawn too much attention to themselves. They were halfway down the hall when the door to Engineering creaked open and Raven poked her head out the door. 

“Hey Clarke, you’ve got a nice pair of pipes on you,” she said with a wink before shutting the door again.

Clarke flushed as red as a tomato, and Bellamy laughed about it for days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	35. Piercings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who voted for me in the Bellarke Smut Awards!! I was so honored to be nominated, and even though I didn't win, it means so much to me that you guys like what I do. :)

**prompt:**  "PLEASE WRITE MORE BELLARKE SMUT! OMG IT'S SO BEAUTIFULLY AMAZING"

* * *

“Please, Bellamy?”

“No.”

“Pretty please, Bell? With cherries on top?”

“Fuck, Octavia, I said no!”

“If you don’t take us, I’ll pierce my nipples like Clarke.”

“Gross, Octavia, I don’t want to think- wait,  _what_?” 

* * *

 That is how, using her powers of diversion and persuasion, Octavia strong-armed her brother into driving her and Clarke two hours away from their home in Ark, Virginia to the coast where they could spend the day at the beach.

He felt like a fucking chauffeur, given that both Clarke and Octavia were huddled together in the backseat, giggling the whole way, while he was stuck driving and glaring at them through the rearview every couple of minutes.

“Why is he looking at me so weird?” he heard Clarke whisper to Octavia. “I’m used to him glaring at me but now he looks almost scared.”

“I told him about your nipple piercings,” Octavia murmured back, digging something out of her bag. Bellamy almost swerved into traffic when Clarke gasped and swatted at her arm. 

“Octavia! You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

Clarke Griffin  _used to_  be the biggest pain in his ass. She was opinionated and strong-willed and privileged in the way that made his blood boil with jealousy and spite. But she was also Octavia’s best friend, and so, for her sake, he tried to keep their verbal sparring matches to a minimum.

As the years went on, she grew on him, and although they still fought like cats and dogs pretty much every time they were around each other, he had come to greatly respect her and even kind of like her a little bit.

Well, he says it’s a little bit. Ask literally anyone else and they’ll tell you that Bellamy Blake is 110% in love with Clarke Griffin. He’ll vehemently deny that fact because, come on, this is  _Clarke_  and she’s his  _little sister’s best friend_  and he’s known her since she was  _thirteen_.

But then again, she’s also smoking hot and the most intense woman he’s ever met.

Thirteen year old Clarke was all flyaway blonde curls and awkward limbs. Nineteen year old Clarke was all legs and curves and flirty smiles. It drove him fucking  _crazy_.

“Are we almost there, Bell?” Octavia whined, leaning forward over the center console. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Ten more minutes, O.”

She slumped back into her seat with a huff and Clarke leaned forward, taking her place.

“You know,” she murmured lowly, so Bellamy had to strain to her hear, “if I knew you liked them, I would’ve shown them to you a long time ago.”

* * *

One hour later, Octavia had gone off to swim with a huge, muscled, surfer named Lincoln and Clarke had dragged Bellamy back to the car. They were pressed together in the back seat, panting and dripping sweat as she rode him. 

“Why haven’t we done this before?” Clarke moaned as she rolled her hips, her fingers desperately clinging to the slick skin of his shoulders. Her bikini top was off, flung somewhere inside the car, and Bellamy couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts.

“If I had known you’d had  _these_ ,” he growled, his right hand coming up to play with the little silver bars in her nipples, “I would’ve stopped trying to be a gentleman a long time ago.”

Clarke snorted. “You? A gentleman?”

Bellamy grunted, leaning forward to capture her left nipple in his mouth. As he laved at the sensitive peak with his tongue, his right hand snuck down between to her legs to press against her clit.

“Fuck!” Clarke moaned as her movements started to get sloppy. Bellamy guided her through her orgasm, never stopping his hard thrusts as she writhed above him. 

She collapsed against him, boneless and panting. Bellamy pressed a kiss to the side of her head and smirked.

“Not a gentleman, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, playing slapping his shoulder. She lifted herself off him and sunk to her knees as best she could in the cramped space. 

Grasping his hard cock in her hand, she looked up at him playfully. “Your turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	36. Back Door Action

**prompt:** "Seems like Clarke responds pretty well to back door action, can we get some anal with multiple squirts? Or with hitachi or something? Your fics are the best!!!!!"

* * *

This is something they have been working up to for a while. It had started with a drunken confession from Clarke a few weeks back, which led to a rather long post-hangover discussion, and finally ended with lots and lots and  _lots_  of practice. 

“Do you wanna go for it?” Clarke mumbles, her face buried in her pillow as Bellamy traces patterns on her bare back. 

They have fucked twice already, and Clarke can still feel the slickness between her thighs. She rolls over to stare at him.

“Are you sure?” His eyes are alight with excitement.

She grabs his hand and brings it to her lips, gently sucking on the tip of his middle finger. “Absolutely.”

Bellamy stands and crosses the room to the full-length mirror they have against the wall. He lifts it and moves it over so that it was at the foot of their bed. 

“On your hands and knees, facing the mirror,” he commands gruffly. 

Clarke bites her lip, loving the way his voice sent shivers down her spine. She acquiesces, moving herself into position as he grabbed things out of the drawers in their nightstand. 

The bed dips as Bellamy kneels behind her. Clarke glances over her shoulder to see that he has produced a small towel, a bottle of lube, and her beloved Hitachi vibrator. 

Clarke hums in approval when Bellamy turns it on and slips the wand between her legs. She is still sensitive from her previous orgasms, and the vibrations are quickly bringing her closer to another.

“Lay on your stomach,” Bellamy says, pushing lightly on her lower back until she was laying flat on the bed, the vibrator trapped between herself and the mattress. Clarke props her head up on her arms and watches him in the mirror as he squirts a generous amount of lube over his hard cock. He fists his length and pumps himself a few times before bringing his slick hand to her ass and slipping a finger between her cheeks.

“ _Oh_!” 

Clarke lets out a soft squeak as his finger swirls around her back hole before slowly slipping inside. They have been making a point to do this almost every time they had sex, ever since Clarke had let it slip that anal was one of her secret fantasies. They both realize how important it was to work up to the main event, and even though the feeling of Bellamy’s fingers in her ass was not new at this point, she is still not quite used to the delicious feeling of him stretching he rout.

If his finger made her feel like she was flying, she could only imagine what his cock would feel like. 

“You ready?” 

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and she gives him an encouraging smile.

“Please, Bellamy. I need this.” 

He pushes his cock in slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. It burns a little bit, but in a good way. An amazing way. When he’s buried to the hilt, he looks at her, waiting for the go ahead. 

Clarke nods, and he starts to move. Slow, small thrusts that, combined with the constant vibrations on her clit, have Clarke arching her back and purring like a cat in seconds. 

They continue like this for a few minutes, Clarke getting used to the feeling of Bellamy moving inside her. She’s mesmerized by his face as she stares in the mirror. His eyes are focused on where they are joined, his lips slightly parted and his tongue sneaking out to wet them every couple of seconds. He moves slowly at first, until Clarke clenches purposefully around him and his grip on her hips tighten almost painful.

“Fuck me harder, damn it,” she groans, and that sets him off. He squirts more lube over where they are joined and then he’s at it like an animal, spewing all the filthy things she loves to hear as he pounds her ass.

_“You’re so fucking tight like this, Clarke. I love fucking your tight little ass.”  
_

_“Do you know how hot this is? You’re a fucking goddess, baby.”  
_

_“Shit. I can’t believe this. I wish you could see this. My cock disappearing into your sweet little ass. Fucking beautiful.”  
_

_“You like it, Clarke? Do you like the feel of my cock in your ass?”_

_“Yes,”_ she moans, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Fuck, Bellamy, you feel so good like this.”

Clarke tries to push herself up onto her hands and knees to gain some leverage, but Bellamy wraps his arms around her and hauls her up so that her back is flush against his chest. His left arm snakes beneath her left leg and hikes it up over his hip all while grabbing the Hitachi and keeping it firmly pressed to her clit. She cries out at the change of angle and turns her head to the side.

Bellamy meets her in a sloppy, frantic kiss. It’s all heavy breaths and open mouths and she’s pretty sure that she bit the corner of her jaw but it doesn’t matter because as soon as she catches a glimpse of them in the mirror she is  _gone_ , screaming and shaking as a hot rush of fluid leaves her pussy and her orgasm washes over her relentlessly. 

Bellamy looses it just seconds after she does, the sight of him fucking her ass as she squirts too much for him. He belatedly realizes that he forgot to lay out the towel and that the sheets beneath them are now soaked but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He slips out of her slowly, careful, and she hisses at the delicious burn. They flop onto their backs and stare at the ceiling, waiting for their breaths to return to normal. 

“Good?” Bellamy pants, grabbing Clarke’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

She squeezes back. “Amazing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	37. Aurelia

**prompt:** "Hey! I really love your writing and I don't know if you accept prompts at the moment but whenever you have time could please write one where Bellamy and Clarke's son/daughter get away with everything on the camp because they're Clarke and Bellamy's kid, like it can be with Wick, or Raven, or Sinclair or Kane but they love then too much to stay mad at them! (you decide if it's a boy or a girl)."

* * *

 

“Shit, Ellie! Watch your hands!” 

Wick springs up from behind his workbench and grabs Aurelia’s hand before it can touch the hot metal rod cooling on the table. She looks up at him with her big blue eyes and bats her eyelashes, an adorable grin spreading across her chubby cheeks. 

Wick sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Jesus, kid. Do you know what your mommy and daddy would do to me if you got hurt on my watch?”

“Would you watch your mouth?” Raven snaps from across the room. Then she looks to the five year old and she softens. “Come sit with Aunt Raven, okay, Ellie? Do you want to talk to the baby?”

Ellie’s eyes widen and she nods enthusiastically, her dark braids flopping around by her shoulders. She skips over to Raven and climbs up onto the bench next to her, immediately pressing her soft hands onto Raven’s swollen stomach.

“Hi, baby,” she coos, rubbing softly. “It’s your cousin, Ellie. I’m not really your cousin, but my mommy says your mommy is her sister anyway, and plus, Uncle Wick lets me share his apple juice sometimes and only families do that.”

Raven arches her eyebrow at Wick from across the room. “You know she backwashes, right?”

Wick pales. 

* * *

 “When’s Gramma Abby getting out of the sir-gee?” Ellie asks, kicking her feet as she sits on Kane’s chair. 

“She should be done with her  _sur-ger-y_  in about an hour,” he says, looking up from the stack of papers in front of her and giving her a mischievous grin. 

“If you eat all of your dinner, I  _might_ be able to spare a piece of chocolate for you…”

“CHOCOLATE?!?” Ellie screeches, enthralled my the thought of her favorite treat. Her legs kick wildly into the air, catching the edge of Kane’s desk and sending his papers flying everywhere. 

Ellie looks up at him with wide eyes. “Oops.”

Kane sighs dramatically, but gives the young girl a smile. He’d only spent the whole morning organizing his desk, but it didn’t seem to matter to much now.

* * *

 Octavia steps inside her cabin and immediately kicks off her boots and hangs her sword by the door. It had been a long day of training and she was ready to relax with her two favorite boys. 

“Lincoln!” she calls softly, padding over to their bedroom. “Xander! I’m h-”

She stops short at the sight of her niece, her hands and face covered in war paint, slathering the black substance onto every available surface in the room. Including Lincoln, who was out cold on the bed, and Xander, her six month old son, who was very much awake and enjoying every second of his cousin’s antics.

“Aunt Tavia!” Ellie shrieks excitedly. Her voice wakes Lincoln, who immediately jumps to his feet.

“Bellamy and Clarke asked if I could watch her,” he explains quickly. “They needed some alone time, and I thought I could handle the two of them but she just doesn’t stop and when I went to put Xander down for his nap I just…”

“Fell asleep and left the five year old alone with our baby in a house full of weapons. Great.” Octavia rolls her eyes and snatches her son off the bed. 

“A-am I in trouble?” Ellie whispers, her lower lip trembling. “I made sure not to get any in his mouth! And he didn’t cry one bit!”

Octavia’s heart melts a bit, and she pulls Ellie in close. “You’re not in trouble, honey. Let’s get you guys cleaned up, okay?”

As they leave the room, she turns back to glare at Lincoln. “I’d start scrubbing the walls, if I were you.”

* * *

 It’s not the loud clap of thunder that wakes Clarke in the middle of the night, or even the bolt of lightning that illuminates the entire room. It’s the pitter-patter of little feet on the floor, the soft whimpers from down the hall, and the creak her door makes as it’s being pushed open. 

“Mommy?” Aurelia whispers, her voice cracking. 

Clarke is already pulling back the blankets on the bed. “Come here, baby girl.”

Ellie practically launches herself into bed, climbing over Clarke and settling into the space between her and Bellamy. Her tiny body is shaking and her toes are freezing, but Clarke doesn’t mind as she pulls her daughter in close and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“Ellie?” Bellamy murmurs, throwing an arm over both of his girls. “Hey, no tears. It’s just a little storm.”

Ellie sniffles and her dad wipes a tear from her cheek. She manages a weak smile. 

Bellamy leans down the nuzzle their noses together. “That’s my brave little girl.” 

In the morning, their backs are sore and bruised from hours of being kicked by little feet, but they can’t bring themselves to care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me a prompt on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	38. Trigedasleng

**prompt:** "Bellarke prompt where Bellamy is bilingual and when ever he speaks the other language Clarke gets really turned on."

* * *

 

It’s one of the first things she notices after coming back to camp. It’s not just him, though. A surprising amount of Sky People- most of them part of the original 100, but still- have started learning Trigedasleng. 

She is used to hearing it flow from the mouths of Octavia, and Lincoln, of course, but to hear Monty swear in the tongue when he burns his finger catches her attention. Raven sarcastically calls Miller a  _gona_  after he startles at the sight of a spider on his boot. She even catches her mother mutter an offhand  _mochof_  to Nyko in the med bay one day. They aren’t fluent by any means, but it’s a start.

Bellamy, however, is another story.

“Weron ai swis?” he mutters under his breath, stomping around camp.  _Where is my knife?_

Clarke looks up from her rough sketch of a new plant they found to gape at him as he calls for his sister. “Oktevia, yu jak op ai swis?”

_Octavia, did you take my knife?_

Octavia rolls her eyes and doesn’t look up from sharpening her knife. “Em bilaik yu hou,” she says drily. 

_It’s in your tent._

“No,” Bellamy growls, ducking into his tent. (They were working on constructing cabins, but Bellamy being Bellamy refused to inhabit one until everyone else had.) “Em no in hir- Oh.”

_It isn’t in here- Oh._

“Goufa,” Octavia scoffs.  _Child._

Clarke’s mouth goes dry as Bellamy emerges from his tent, twirling his knife between his fingers. There was something about the way he spoke, the deep rasp of his voice, that always made the air seem a little bit warmer, but hearing him speak in Trigedasleng made her feel like she was on fire.

“Bellamy,” she is saying before she can stop herself. He glances over at her. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

His brow furrows. “Of course, Clarke.”

She abandons her sketchbook and follows him into his tent. As soon as the flap closes behind them he looks to her expectantly. 

“What is it, Clarke?”

She licks her lips. “When did you learn to speak Trigedasleng?” she asks in one hurried breath. 

“I’ve been picking it up from Octavia and Lincoln. Everyone has. Why?” he responds, not quite catching on. 

Clarke begins to feel foolish. “No particular reason, I guess. I’ve just never heard you speak it and it made me...uh, I was just curious.”

Bellamy arches an eyebrow. “It made you what?”

“Curious,” Clarke says, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think that was what you were going to say, Clarke.” He inches closer, and her breath hitches. “Tell me. Does me speaking Trigedasleng make you feel...something?”

“Yes,” Clarke breathes, her eyes fluttering closed as he takes another step closer. 

“Well,” Bellamy says with a deep chuckle, “ai don sen in chit bilaik ai gaf sen in.” 

_I’ve heard what I needed to hear._

Later, he presses open-mouthed kisses all over her skin and paints her body with words she is yet to understand, and she loves every second. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (obellamyblake)


	39. Time of My Life

**prompt:** "Let me get this straight. You, Bellamy Blake, best man playboy extraordinaire, cant get the maid of honor to even speak to you for more then 20 seconds?"

“Let me get this straight. You, Bellamy Blake, Best Man and Playboy Extraordinaire, can’t get the maid of honor to even speak to you for more than 20 seconds?” Wick laughed, taking a sip of his scotch. “This is rich.”

“She hasn’t spoken to me in weeks,” Bellamy grumbled, yanking his tie loose and reaching for his glass just as the bartender slid it over. “I’ve tried to apologize, but she won’t listen to me. The only time she’d even acknowledge me was if it was something about the wedding, and now that that’s over, she can ignore me forever.”

“In all fairness, man, you  _did_  give her a black eye and call her fat all in the span of five minutes.” 

Bellamy groaned and rubbed a hand across his face. “That’s not what happened and you know it.”

* * *

What had happened was actually one big misunderstanding. They had been hanging out in Octavia’s apartment,  _they_  being him, Octavia, her fiancé- as of about twenty minutes ago, her  _husband_ \- Lincoln, and Clarke, going over details for the wedding. Bellamy was, of course, walking Octavia down the aisle, but he had been quite surprised when Lincoln had asked him to be his best man. 

“I never had much in the way of family, or even friends,” the tall, tattooed man had told him, “but now I feel as if I do. I know that it was hard for you to accept me as a part of Octavia’s life, but you did anyway. You’re a good man, Bellamy Blake, and you’re important to Octavia. That means you’re important to me, too.”

If anyone asked, he  _most definitely did not_  tear up during that conversation. 

Anyway, they had been hanging around in the living room when Clarke made a  _Dirty Dancing_  reference and Octavia nearly jumped through the roof.

“Bellamy! Remember when you used to lift me?” 

He laughed, remembering his wiry little sister, all awkward limbs and tangled hair, flying at him with a huge grin on her face, squealing in delight as he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her above his head, twirling her in a circle. 

“Of course I do, O.”

“You can do the lift?” Clarke said, intrigued. “That was always my favorite part. I’m jealous.”

“Bell, lift Clarke!” Octavia said, more of a command than a suggestion. 

Clarke looked sheepish. “No, no way.”

But Bellamy was already standing up. Maybe it was because he had a few beers in him, or maybe it was because he was a little too eager to impress the beautiful blonde who had been driving him crazy for months now, but he planted his feet firmly and clapped his hands together excitedly.

“Let’s do this, Princess.”

Octavia cheered and Lincoln cracked a smile as Clarke slowly rolled off the couch. She stood across the room from Bellamy and took a shaky breath.

“You’ll won’t drop me, right?”

“Never,” Bellamy vowed. 

Clarke stared at him for a moment, trying to judge if he was kidding or not, before nodding. She bounced on her toes for a moment before taking off, running into Bellamy’s arms.

It all went perfectly.

Until he actually had to lift her _over_  his head. He hadn’t planted his feet properly, so his weight wasn’t balanced, and the shoulder muscle that he had  _thought_  had healed fine from its sprain a few weeks ago chose that exact moment to act up, and before he knew it his arms were shaking and they were falling to the ground. 

He tried to move as they fell so his body took the most of the impact, but he moved his right arm at the same time Clarke tried to squirm out of his grip and his elbow slammed into her face right as they crashed against the hardwood floor.

“Ow! Ow! Fuck, Bellamy, what the hell? Owww!”

“Jesus, Clarke! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Clarke sat up, one hand pressed over her left eye, looking positively mortified. “I thought you weren’t going to drop me,” she mumbled, wincing as she touched her face.

He doesn’t know why he said it. Really. Dropping her was entirely his fault, it had nothing to do with her, but he still found himself saying, “Well, you’re a lot bigger than Octavia was.”

If he could go back in time, he punch his former self in the face. The look on her face made him want to die. 

“Well,  _sorry_ ,” Clarke muttered, hastily climbing to her feet, “Next time you offer to lift someone, make sure they’re more  _your size_.”

“Clarke, I didn’t mean-”

“Forget it,” she snapped. She blinked hastily, and when he saw the tears in her eyes, he felt like someone just shot him right in the chest. “I need to get going anyway.”

“Clarke, come on,” Octavia said softly. “Let me get you an ice pack. Is your eye okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, grabbing her purse. Lincoln stood and ran into the kitchen as she shrugged into her jacket. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Lincoln reappeared with an icepack and a dishtowel in hand. He wrapped the towel around the icepack and pressed it gently to Clarke’s eye.

“Don’t listen to him,” Bellamy heard the man say lowly. “You’re beautiful, Clarke.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Lincoln.”

And then she was gone, practically sprinting out the door and taking the icepack with her. As soon as the door was shut, Octavia whirled on her brother.

“ _What the fuck, Bellamy?_ ”

“I don’t know!” he yelled back, pulling at his hair. “You know I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that she was heavier than you were when you were ten, O! And it doesn’t even matter because she isn’t heavy  _at all_  and I don’t know why I said that!” 

“That was not a respectful thing to say to a woman,” Lincoln admonished him, “or anyone.”

Bellamy glared at him. “I know.”

“Clarke had a lot of weight issues, Bell,” Octavia said, softer this time. He looked to her, shocked. “She used to be overweight as a kid, and she told me that people used to make fun of her a lot in high school. That’s why she’s so into fitness now. She got access to a free gym when we started college and she got herself into amazing shape. But it doesn’t mean that it still isn’t a sore subject for her.”

“I didn’t know that,” Bellamy said hoarsely. “Fuck, O, you know that I didn’t mean it to insult her. I would never ever do that.”

“I know that,” Octavia said. “You need to make sure she knows that, though.”

He did. Or well, he tried to. He sent her countless texts, emails, and left about a dozen voicemails. He even wrote her a handwritten apology and left it on her doorstep with a bouquet of orchids, her favorite flowers. 

She started talking to him again, eventually. But it was in terse, clipped sentences that were only about wedding plans and only when she absolutely had to speak with him. There was no mention of the incident and every time he attempted to bring it up, she shut him down completely.

* * *

 Bellamy took another sip of his drink and looked wistfully out onto the dance floor. The song was some remix of a 90s hit, and Octavia and Lincoln were dancing together in a way that made him avert his eyes as quickly as possible. They landed on Clarke, of course, who was grinding with Raven as if their lives depended on it. 

As the song came to a close, Raven pulled away and pressed a kiss to Clarke’s cheek. She turned and sauntered over to the bar, where she grabbed the scotch from Wick’s hands and drained it in one gulp. 

“Ahh, I missed that,” she sighed, staring lovingly at the glass. 

“It was only nine months,” Wick protested, flagging down the bartender. Raven rolled her eyes at her husband.

“It was nine months of hell. Worth it, though.”

“Where is the little guy, anyway?” Bellamy asked, tearing his eyes away from Clarke, who had taken her seat at the table and had kicked off her heels, rubbing the soles of her feet. 

“He’s at home with the World’s Most Unlikely Babysitter,” Raven said, smiling at the thought of her three-month-old son, Wyatt. 

Bellamy arched an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Murphy.”

He burst out laughing. “Are you shitting me? John Murphy is watching your infant?”

“He’s great with him!” Raven protested. “Wyatt spit up on him the other day and he didn’t even make a face. He even kissed his cheek.”

“That is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard.”

Raven didn’t get a chance to respond before the DJ’s voice came over the speakers. 

“Alright, everyone, it’s time to slow it down a bit. The bride and groom requested this special song.”

The first notes of the song are unmistakeable. 

_Now I’ve had the time of my life,_

_No, I’ve never felt this way before_

“No way,” Bellamy breathed. He caught Octavia’s eye from across the room and she winked. 

_Yes, I swear it’s the truth_

_And I owe it all to you_

He looked to Clarke again. She was focused intently on the tablecloth. Bellamy gulped down the rest of his drink and stood up.

It was now or never.

_I've been waiting for so long  
Now I've finally found someone to stand by me_

He walked purposefully over to the table and cleared his throat. When Clarke looked up, her eyes narrowed. 

_We saw the writing on the wall  
And we felt this magical fantasy_

“Can I help you?”

Now with passion in our eyes  
There's no way we could disguise it secretly

“Look, I was an ass. I know that, and I’m so fucking sorry, Clarke. I know you got my messages, so you have to know that I feel absolutely awful about what I said.” 

_So we take each others hand  
'Cause we seem to understand the urgency_

Bellamy took a deep breath and continued. “But what you probably don’t know is that I love you, Clarke. Like a lot. These past few weeks have been killing me, and even if you don’t feel the same way, you’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you.”

Clarke bit her lip. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”

 _Just remember_  
You're the one thing  
I can't get enough of

Bellamy felt a surge of hope and he held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

_So I'll tell you something  
This could be love_

Clarke stood up and grabbed his hand.

 _Because I've had the time of my life_  
No, I never felt this way before  
Yes I swear it's the truth  
And I owe it all to you

They swayed together on the dance floor, their moves in perfect synchronicity. Bellamy relished the feeling of her in his arms, her body against his. 

 _'Cause I've had the time of my life_  
And I've searched through every open door  
Till I found the truth  
And I owe it all to you

Her back was pressed to his chest, his face buried in her hair and his hands guided her hips. “I’m so sorry,” he said to her curls. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”

_With my body and soul  
I want you more than you'll ever know_

“I know,” she said, turning to face him. “I was more embarrassed than anything, I think.”

_So we'll just let it go  
Don't be afraid to lose control, no_

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “I love every bit of you, Clarke Griffin. Inside and out.”

_Yes, I know what's on your mind when you say  
"Stay with me tonight" (stay with me)_

Clarke flushed. “I love you, too, you know. Even when you’re being an ass.”

_Just remember_

_You're the one thing_

Bellamy couldn’t contain his grin. “Yeah?”

_I can't get enough of_

Clarke leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “Yeah.”

_So I'll tell you something_

“What do you say we give this lift thing another try?”

_This could be love_

This time, when she ran to him, he lifted her with ease. The crowd cheered as he spun her around, and when he looked up at the blinding grin on her face, he was certain that nothing would ever be quite as breathtaking.

 _Because I've had the time of my life_  
No, I never felt this way before  
Yes I swear it's the truth  
And I owe it all to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (I changed my URL to bilexualclarke!)


	40. Bellamy's Guns

 

 **prompt:** "could you please write Clarke going down on Bellamy??  & he keeps calling her baby and it's super smutty and cute??" + "Can you write something with Bellamy keeping a gun in his waistband?"

* * *

Summers by the sea are hotter than they expected, but it isn’t the heat that gets to them. It’s the humidity, the thick, oppressive air around them that leaves a permanent sheen of sweat on their skin. 

 

Bellamy is not the only one to walk around with his shirt off, but he _is_  the only one to do so with a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. She might be just the tiniest bit biased, but Clarke would be lying if she said that it wasn’t one of the hottest things she’s ever seen. 

 

“What’s with the firearm, Blake?” Raven asked when he approached her and Clarke at the cantina during lunch. 

 

Clarke scoots over and he drops onto the bench beside her, throwing a sticky arm over her shoulders. He takes an obnoxious bite of the sandwich in her hand before answering. 

 

“Savage,” Clarke mutters, but she offers him a drink of her water.

 

“It’s an intimidation factor,” Bellamy explains after he swallows. “I’m training new guard recruits and it makes me look badass. Well, more badass than I already am, of course.”

 

Raven rolls her eyes. “Masculinity is such a fragile thing.” 

 

Clarke rests her head on Bellamy’s shoulder. “You smell.”

 

“If you want to train cadets in the sun all day, I’ll happily take over in the med bay,” he jokes, turning his head to blow a raspberry on her hairline.

 

“You guys are fucking gross.” Raven pops the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth and stands, bracing herself on the table as she steps onto her bad leg. “I’m going back to work.”

 

Clarke offers Bellamy the rest of her sandwich. “I switched shifts with Harper so I’ll be home early tonight.”

 

“Does that mean we can actually eat dinner together instead of me force-feeding you while you stitch up someone’s arm?”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “That also means,” she says, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “that we’ll have more time to do other things together.”

 

Bellamy grins salaciously. “Oh, really? Like what?”

 

“That’s for me to know,” Clarke murmurs, her hand slipping over the sculpted muscles of his abdomen and ghosting over the cool metal of the gun, “and for you to enjoy.”

 

His voice drops so low that it’s practically a growl. “The gun doing it for you?”

 

“Hell yes,” she breathes. 

 

He kisses her roughly, hard enough to leave her panting and wanting more when he stands. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says, winking at her over his shoulder as he walks back to work. 

* * *

 

 

His moans are deep and dirty, and she swears that she can feel the vibrations all the way down her her toes. 

 

“Just like that, baby,  _fuck_ ,” he swears as her tongue swirls around the sensitive head of his cock. “Feels so fucking good.”

 

Clarke’s left hand moves between her thighs on its own accord, two fingers dipping into the viscous wetness there. She fucks herself as she sucks his cock, and when he forces his eyes open and sees her arm moving, he nearly loses it.

 

“Yes, baby, touch yourself. Fuck yourself with your fingers while you suck my cock.” His right hand is firmly planted on the back of her head, his fingers braided into her hair, guiding her head up and down. “You gonna come for me?”

 

Her eyes flick up to meet his, a silent confirmation. 

 

“I’m close, too, baby. This feels so fucking good.” She hollows her cheeks and sucks a bit harder on the tip and then relaxes her throat so she can take him as deep as he’ll go, all the while alternating between rubbing her clit and fucking herself feverishly with her fingers. “Shit, Clarke! I want you to come for me right now, baby,  _right fucking now_.”

 

She does, her cunt clenching tight around her fingers. 

 

“Good girl,” Bellamy groans, “You’re so beautiful, baby, coming while you suck my cock.”

 

She moans at his praise, and the vibrations against his cock send Bellamy over the edge as well. His eyes roll back and his hips arch up off the makeshift mattress, and Clarke eagerly swallows his cum as she shudders with the aftershocks of her own release.

 

She releases his cock with a soft  _pop_  and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

 

“So, I guess I’ll stop wearing the gun, then?” Bellamy laughs as their breaths return to normal. Clarke crawls up the bed and collapses next to him, slapping his chest weakly.

 

“Don’t you dare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	41. Take U There

**prompt:** "Hey can you do a Bellarke one where it's like they're at a college party and they're grinding on each other and they don't realize who they are then all of a sudden Clarke realizes who he is and she's like 'holy shit I had a huge crush on you in high school but you were older than me now I'm grinding on you fuck' type of thing."

* * *

Clarke was having an amazing time.

She had been a little hesitant to attend the party, given that it was thrown by the biggest frat on campus, but Raven had a huge crush on the younger sister of one of the frat guys, so she had dragged herself out of bed like the good wingwoman she was. 

Not like she was needed, however. Raven had disappeared an hour ago, her crush, a fierce, raven-haired girl named Octavia, and Clarke was currently making out with a tall brunette with heavy eye makeup and a jaw that could cut glass. Her name was Lexa, and she sure knew how to work her tongue.

They broke apart after a little while, breathless and flushed. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” Clarke told her. “Do you want anything?”

The girl shook her head and Clarke pressed a kiss to her cheek and disappeared into the kitchen, where she poured herself some of the concoction a boy with goggles had excitedly revealed before. Warmth immediately spread through her once she took a sip, and though it burned a little going down, the aftertaste was surprisingly pleasant.

Clarke made her way back to Lexa. Or rather, she tried to. The brunette had disappeared into the massive crowd, nowhere to be seen. Clarke started to frown, but then the music, changed, and the first few notes of Jack Ü’s “Take Ü There” burst through the speakers, and her mood instantly changed.

That was her  _jam_. 

She immediately started to move, integrating herself into the crowd and swaying her hips. She backed up against a hard body, and was about to turn around and apologize, but then the beat dropped and two strong hands wrapped around her waist, guiding her as she moved against them. 

Their movements were sensual, borderline erotic. She pressed her entire body against them, rolling her ass into their pelvis and placing her hands over theirs. She dropped her head back on their shoulder and closed her eyes as they danced through the song, impossibly close and in sync the entire time. 

By the time the song ended, she was exhilarated and incredibly turned on. 

Clarke turned around, and was shocked to see a familiar freckled face.

“Bellamy!” she gasped. Then all the pieces fell together. “Oh my God,  _Octavia_ is here! I should’ve known it was you two.”

Bellamy grinned, the light reflecting off his shaggy black hair. Clarke ached to run her fingers through it. 

“Griffin. Holy shit.” His grip on her waist tightened. “You grew up.”

The last time they had seen each other, she was twelve and he was fifteen, and she was yelling at him about their differing opinions on fucking oligarchies to hide the fact that she had a massive crush on him. 

“So did you.” She eyes the rippling muscles beneath his shirt and the broad shoulders that definitely were not there six years ago.

He liked his lips. “You want to get out of here?”

Clarke arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t this your party?”

Bellamy slid his palm into hers. “I don’t think they’ll miss me too much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	42. Fortissimus

**prompt:** "Considering I am desperate trash I have a really strong need for just like sappy fluffyish Bellarke smut (maybe like a first time) with just desperate words and shaking hands and mindblowing sex (so maybe third or fourth time)."

* * *

It’s their fourth Christmas together as a couple, and the seventh together since they met in Clarke’s freshman year of college. Bellamy has had the ring for months, and even though proposing on Christmas is typically considered “cute”, he finds it incredibly cliché and is planning to do it some time after New Years. 

They open gifts for each other on Christmas Eve, just the two of them in front of the roaring fireplace in their home. In the morning they will go to Octavia and Lincoln’s to shower their new nephew with presents and exchange gifts with the rest of their friends, but tonight is just for them.

Bellamy gets her the new set of paints she had been eying for a while and surprises her with her dad’s watch that she thought she lost months ago, totally refurbished and working like a charm. She kisses him tearfully, too overjoyed to even appreciate his other gift, a week long trip for the two of them to the Florida coast at the end of January.

“Clarke, I love it!” Bellamy says when he opens his gift to find a new black leather messenger bag sitting inside the box. He lifts it up to inspect it and frowns. “Wow. It’s heavy.”

Clarke bites her lip and flushes. “Well, there’s a little something inside it, too.”

Curious, he opens the bag and reaches inside. He pulls out a thick hardcover book and gasps. 

“Clarke…” he whispers, awestruck. “Is this?”

“ _Fortissimus: An Anthology of Ancient Roman Greats_ ,” Clarke says softly, crawling behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She rests her chin on his shoulder as he gapes at the book. “By Bellamy Blake.”

“This is my book.”

“It’s not a very well-known publishing company, but when I contacted them they seemed very enthusiastic and they already want to talk to you about a sequel or-”

She is cut of by Bellamy, who turns in her arms and crushes their lips together. Then he plants kisses all over her face and down her neck until she is both amused and sufficiently turned on. 

“You published my book.”

Clarke cupped his face with hr hands. “All I did was send your manuscript to a publisher that you probably would’ve sent it to eventually. That book is all yours, and I am  _so proud_  of you, Bellamy.”

Kissing her again, he rolls them so that she is on her back in front of the fireplace. They had laid out pillows before hand so they didn’t get too uncomfortable when they sat to open their gifts, and Bellamy was thankful for their foresight. 

“God, I love you,” he murmured into the skin of her neck as his hands dipped beneath her red flannel Christmas pajamas. He gripped the hem and pulled it over her torso, and she lifted up slightly so he could pull it over her head. “I really fucking love you.”

“I know,” she whispers, helping him shed his own pajamas. “I love you, too.”

As soon as they’re both naked, Bellamy proceeds to his favorite place. He leaves a wet trail of sloppy kisses down her body and settles between her legs, giving her slit one long lick that has her keening.

He flattens his tongue against her clit, worrying it for a few seconds before moving his assault to her soaked cunt, dipping his tongue into her opening and lapping up the delicious juices there. He moans as he tongue fucks her, and the send her over the edge in seconds.

Clarke looks down at him through half-lidded eyes, a beautiful flush covering her face, neck, and chest. She’s giving him her “fuck me” eyes, the ones she uses when she wants his cock inside her, and although he’s painfully hard at this point, he isn’t done with her yet.

He returns focus to her clit, alternating between flicking it lightly with his tongue and sucking hard on it for a few seconds. Two fingers slide into her cunt easily, and he crooks them up inside her so they brush over that magic spot that has her canting her hips upwards and letting out a string of expletives.

“ _Fuckfuckfuck holy shit fuck_ ,” she whines, her hands leaving his hair to grab at her tits, pinching her nipples and rolling them between her fingers.

Bellamy feels her walls start to flutter around his fingers, and he knows she’s close again. He slips his fingers out of her and before she has time to protest, impales her with his tongue again, using his fingers to rub her clit mercilessly.

“ _FUCK, BELLAMY! I’M GOING TO- FUCK!_ ” Her words cut off into a shriek as she comes, writhing against his mouth. He has to throw an arm over her waist to keep her steady as he laps up all of her juices like a man dying of thirst. 

When he pulls back, his mouth and chin are shiny, and she watches him intently as he slowly licks  _her_  off his fingers. 

Once she’s recovered, Clarke climbs onto Bellamy’s lap. He has one arm bracing himself on the ground and another between them so he can rub her clit. She grips his shoulders for leverage and licks herself off his tongue as she fucks herself on his cock, and when she comes for the third time, she collapses against him.

He finally turns them so that she’s on her back on the pillows again. Her legs are pinned open by his arms, bracketing her body on either side, and when he slips inside her again they both let out a deep sigh. 

“You feel so good inside me,” Clarke whispers, her hands coming up to play with her beautiful tits. Bellamy rolls his hips and she gasps. Then he picks up speed, fucking her heard and earnest until she’s a whining, wanton mess before him. 

“Come again for me,” he demands, his voice practically a growl. Clarke shudders and grimaces.

“I don’t think I can,” she says weakly. “I’m too sensitive.” 

Bellamy is having none of that. He knows her body better than his own, and he knows that if he plays his cards right he will have her tumbling over the edge in barely two minutes. 

He lifts her left leg over his shoulder so his right arm is free, and presses his thumb to her clit, rubbing insistently.

“Give me another one.”

Clarke lets out a choked sob, and Bellamy notices a stray tear running down her cheek. He immediately stops, but then her eyes fly open and she grabs at his shoulders.

“Don’t stop!” she cries, “Please, Bellamy, it feels so good.  _Please_  don’t stop.”

Satisfied that her tears are a product of pleasure and not pain, he picks up the pace. He angles his hips so his cock hits that magic spot inside of her, and she practically screams.

“ _Fuck_ , Bellamy!”

“Come for me, Clarke,” he demands, pinching her clit between his thumb and forefinger as he fucks her. “You’re doing so fucking good, baby, I want you to come. Are you gonna come for me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Clarke sobs, her eyes rolling back. “ _Yes, I’m going to come for you!_ ”

He releases her clit, and the sudden rush of blood sends her straight over the edge. She comes in the most beautiful way, her back arching and her mouth stretching into a perfect ‘O’ as she lets out the sexiest moan Bellamy’s ever heard.

“ _Marry me_ ,” he blurts out, his own release getting nearer. Clarke’s eyes shoot open. She’s still coming, her body still trembling and the walls of her cunt still squeezing his cock. “ _I’m so fucking in love with you, Clarke. Marry me. Please, marry me_.”

Clarke grabs his face and pulls him down so their lips brush against each other when she answers.

“ _Yes, Bellamy, I’ll marry you_.”

He comes so hard he sees stars. 

Later, brings out the ring and slips it onto her finger. They cuddle naked in front of the fire and kiss softly, sporadically, murmuring sweet nothings until they fall asleep. 

* * *

 Next year, they each open presents with a sparkling new band on their fourth fingers, and Bellamy’s gift is a small blue mug that says #1 Dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	43. Flowers (Part II)

**prompt:** "So can you please write more of the au where Bellamy and Raven go to Clarke's grave? It was so heart breaking but written so well."

[ _part I_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4055305/chapters/9351333)

* * *

They end up at a small diner just two blocks from Raven’s house, sipping on orange juice and shoving their faces with French toast. The older woman behind the counter just smiles and shrugs when Bellamy tentatively asks if he can bring Pudge inside, and the dog ends up panting at their feet. 

Raven sneaks him a bit of her bacon when she thinks Bellamy isn’t looking.

“So, do you want to see a picture of her?” Bellamy asks, already pulling out his phone. 

Raven’s eyes widen. “Oh! Well, yeah. Are you sure?”

He chuckles and swipes at the screen. “Of course. Don’t worry, I’m not going to start sobbing into my toast. I love talking about her.” 

Raven peers at the screen and smiles. His background is a picture of the sunset, but there’s a smiling blonde silhouetted in the dark orange light. Her hair is blowing wildly around her face and she’s wearing a white lace sundress. 

“She’s…”  _Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous._  Raven somehow thinks that Bellamy knows all this. “Happy,” she settles on. “She looks very happy. Very…free.”

There’s a glint in Bellamy’s eyes that wasn’t there earlier. “She was. She was pre-med, so there were times where I literally though the stress was going to make her hair fall out or something. But when she let go…” Bellamy let out a low whistle. “She was the most beautiful spirit I’d ever seen.”

Raven takes a sip of her orange juice and leans back in her seat. “Tell me about her.”

He does.

He tells her about how they grew up together in a small town in Ark County, Virginia, and she was best friends with his little sister, Octavia. Their mom died when he was 18 and Octavia was 14, and although he became her legal guardian, they didn’t have enough money to stay afloat by themselves so they moved to California to stay with their aunt and uncle. A few years past and Octavia and Clarke lost touch until college, when they both ended up at Mount Weather University. 

Clarke and Octavia picked up right where they left off. Bellamy had a job as a bartender at a bar a few blocks from their college, where he definitely  _did not_ serve them any alcoholic beverages. After months of bickering and building what their friend Murphy called “a fuck ton of sexual tension”, he finally asked Clarke out. By the time she turned 19, they had been dating for six months and he already knew that he was going to marry her.

He proposed at the Fall Out Boy concert he took her to for her 21st birthday, and she passed out in the middle of one of her classes two weeks later. 

“It was brain cancer,” Bellamy tells her bitterly, pointing to the left side of his head. “A fucking tumor right here. Right in the middle of her perfect brain.”

Raven drops her gaze. Bellamy takes a deep breath and continues.

“It was quick, though. Six weeks later and she was gone. Right next to me in her sleep.” He smiles weakly. “I’ve gotta be grateful though. I spent a long time being bitter about it, but that doesn’t change anything. I’m so thankful for all the time we spent together. And she didn’t even have time to really suffer, you know?”

“My grandpa had brain cancer,” Raven offers. “He died when I was four, so I don’t remember much. But I did go see him once, and he was hooked up to all these tubes and wires and he could barely talk. He’d been like that for over a year. It was awful.”

“See!” Bellamy taps the table twice. “She was always a lucky one.”

He pauses for a moment and then chuckles. “You know, when she used to laugh really hard, like,  _really fucking hard_ , she would snort and-” His chuckle turns to full-on belly laughing, and Raven can’t help but join in. Within seconds both of them are doubled over, cackling, and Bellamy is trying to explain how one time Octavia made them laugh so hard that Clarke snorted chocolate milk out of her nose.

“God, I fucking miss her,” he wheezes, still laughing. His hands are flat on the table, and Raven doesn’t hesitate before grabbing them.

“If you want to keep talking,” she says, rubbing soothing circles on his palms with her thumbs. “I’m free all day.”

Bellamy eyes her for a moment and then squeezes her hands. He grins widely. 

“So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	44. Beg For It

**prompt:** "So a modern Bellarke Dom/sub smut, with Bellamy as the Dom, Clarke as the sub please? Bonus points for dirty talk! Thanks you! xx"

* * *

 “Open your mouth.”

Clarke does as she is told and waits for the warm, familiar weight of him on her tongue. When it comes, she closes her mouth and sucks lightly. Bellamy rewards her with a deep groan and moves his wrist sharply, jerking the chain in his hand that is attached to the clamps around her nipples. 

The sharp pain makes her whimper, but it also sends a hot stripe of lust up her spine.

“Now,  _suck_.”

Clarke allows her eyes to flutter closes as she bobs her head, taking his cock as far as it can go. She allows her tongue to sneak out, licking at the vein on the underside of his shaft and relishing in the shiver that runs through his body. Every time she sucks a little harder or takes him a littler deeper, he tugs on the chain, making her wetter and wetter until she is practically dripping down her thighs. 

She relaxes her throat and tries to take him as deep as she can, gagging only a little bit when the head of his cock brushes the back of her throat. Bellamy gasps, and when her eyes start to water she releases him, panting and wiping the spit off her mouth and chin. 

“You’re such a good girl,” Bellamy says affectionately, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. He helps her off her knees and onto their bed, pushing her flat on her back and moving between her legs. “Do you know what good girls get?”

“Good girls get to come,” she says softly, spreading her legs in anticipation. 

Bellamy frowns and arches an eyebrow.

“Good girls get to come,  _sir_ ,” she corrects herself hastily. 

“That’s right.” Bellamy spreads her cunt with his thumbs and blows lightly over her clit, making her tremble. “But not until I say they can. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Clarke whimpers.

Bellamy grins wickedly before dropping his head down to feast on her cunt. Her back bows off the bed when his tongue slips inside her, her hips cant up against his mouth when she sucks hard on her clit. When he slips two fingers inside her cunt and curls them upward as his tongue spells his name on her clit, she nearly screams.

He feels her walls clench around his fingers and he pulls his mouth away from her clit. “Did I say you could come yet, Princess?”

His fingers haven’t stopped their ministrations, and Clarke is struggling to hold back. “No, sir, but-”

“Do you want to come?” He twists his wrist slightly. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Clarke cries out. “Yes,  _please, sir!_ ”

“Then you better fucking beg for it,” Bellamy growls. He pulls his fingers out of her and slaps her clit. She yelps, not in pain but in pleasure, and tries to close her legs.

Bellamy forces them open and slaps her clit again. “What did I say?  _Beg for it, Clarke_.”

Her entire body is trembling, and when he slaps her cunt again she can  _hear_  how wet she is. 

“ _PLEASE_ ,” she shouts. “ _Bellamy, please let me come for you, I can’t fucking take it_!”

In other circumstances, he would’ve made her wait longer as punishment for not calling him “sir”, but he can hear how fucking wrecked she is already, and he can’t deny her any longer.

“Okay, baby,” he says, just before lowering his mouth to her cunt again. “You can come for me.”

She practically sobs in relief, her thighs locking around the sides of his head as she rides out her orgasm. Bellamy laps at her cunt like she’s the sweetest fruit he’s ever tasted and he can’t get enough. When she finally pushes him away, too sensitive to take anymore stimulation, his face and chin are shining with her juices. 

Clarke pulls him to her and kisses him languidly, licking herself off his lips and tongue. When she’s satisfied, Bellamy pulls her close and tucks them both under the blankets. He presses a kiss to her forehead and they soon fall asleep. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	45. Movie

**prompt:** "Could you write a fic about Clarke falling asleep on Bellamy when they are watching a movie or something and Bellamy doesn't move because he doesn't want to disturb her?"

* * *

“I can’t believe you actually own this movie,” Clarke said as she made herself comfortable on Bellamy’s couch. “Not even the library owned this movie.”

“I will not tolerate any jokes at my expense,” Bellamy called from the kitchen. He took the butter out of the microwave and drizzled the melted goodness all over the freshly popped popcorn. “I’m your saving grace right now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke grumbled. “Where’s that popcorn?”

“Be patient!”

One of Clarke’s mandatory classes at Ark University was a history course taught by Professor Kane. The man was funny and fair, but he had a certain love for history that bled into certain mediums in real life. Namely the fact that he assigned each student a particular documentary to watch and right a report on, and all the documentaries were so ancient that they couldn’t be found on Netflix and there were no decent summaries online. 

“You’re lucky my brother is the biggest nerd in the world,” her roommate, Octavia, had said when Clarke complained to her over dinner in their dining hall. “He probably has that documentary. Hell, he probably knows it like the back of his hand.”

A year ago, that kind of offer would have made Clarke’s skin crawl. Her and Bellamy’s initial relationship was rocky at best, and they could barely be in the same room for more than five minutes without some sort of argument. But as time went on, they grew on each other, which is why she found herself in his apartment two towns over on a Tuesday night, her feet propped up on the ottoman like she owned the place. 

“Here you go, Princess,” Bellamy said, reaching over the back of the couch to hand her the bowl. Clarke grabbed it and eagerly shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. 

“Fanks,” she said, spitting popcorn everywhere. Bellamy rolled his eyes and crossed the room to the shelf next to the TV, where he produced a dusty VHS tape.

“Are you kidding me? It’s on VHS? Do you even have a VCR anymore? Does anyone?” Clarke gaped, licking butter off her fingers.

Bellamy was silent for a second, his eyes glued to her fingers as her tongue laved at them. “What? Oh. Yeah.” He shook his head and looked back to the movie in his hand. “Of course I have a VCR. How else am I supposed to watch my old movies?”

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Clarke groaned to the ceiling.

Bellamy chuckled and popped the VHS into the machine. He settled next to Clarke, not even thinking before swinging an arm over the back of the couch. He froze, not sure how she’d react to him basically putting his arm around him, but she just shifted closer and tucked her legs underneath her. 

“Is this popcorn caffeinated? Because any kind of documentary always puts me to sleep.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes as the opening credits started. “Clarke, if you pay attention, you’ll find that this is actually really interesting. I mean, the fall of Rome is just fascinating-”

“Shh!” She pressed a buttery finger to his lips. “I need to focus, right? I can’t do that with your voice distracting me.”

He couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto his face. “My voice distracts you?”

Clarke’s cheeks turned pink. “I said no talking.”

Smug, Bellamy turned his gaze back to the TV. He let himself get sucked into the documentary, turning all his attention to the information he knew by heart already. 

Ten minutes in and Clarke’s eyelids started to droop. Fifteen minutes and she placed the half-empty bowl of popcorn on the floor, scared that she’d fall asleep and face-plant into the bowl. When they neared the thirty minute mark, she curled up against Bellamy and rested her head on his lap.

He automatically tensed, and she panicked. 

_Was that too forward? Do I make him uncomfortable? Oh my God, I’ve ruined everything._

But he just placed a warm hand on her head, tentatively running his fingers through her hair. Clarke relaxed immediately and felt him do the same. His hands in her hair felt amazing, but it also brought her closer and closer to nodding off. 

She supposed it wouldn’t make too much of a difference. It wasn’t as if she had been paying attention to anything since the opening credits.

When there was only about half an hour left, Bellamy heard Clarke start to snore. It soft and adorable, and he may or may not have turned down the volume so he could hear it.  

Even once the movie ended, he couldn’t bring himself to move her. She seemed so comfortable, so relaxed. He took a moment to admire how truly beautiful she was, tracing the side of her face lightly with his index finger. He would wake her in a little while, before it got too late. But for now, he would let her sleep.

Clarke came back the next day, armed with coffee and candy to keep herself awake while she re-watched the documentary. She didn’t fall asleep this time, but she didn’t pay much attention to it either. 

* * *

 She was too distracted by the feel of Bellamy’s lips against hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!   
> (bilexualclarke)


	46. Lecture

**prompt:** "Bellamy is fingering Clarke under the table during one of their classes/lectures."

* * *

It didn’t start off like this. 

The lecture hall held roughly three hundred people, and out of everyone, he had chosen to sit next to her. She had been taking the class to fulfill her history requirement, not to get stuck next to a befreckled, dark-haired, snarky man who had something to mumble under his breath at almost everything Professor Kane said. 

“Could you please shut up?” Clarke had hissed at him one day. “I’m trying to take notes and I can’t focus when you’re spewing asinine comments every other minute.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, and she definitely did not watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “You know, Princess,” he said with a smirk, “you might want to focus on me instead. I could teach you more than this dipshit ever could.”

It didn’t matter to her whether the double entendre was intentional or not. She rolled her eyes, flipped him off, and tried her best to focus on what Professor Kane was saying about the Peloponnesian War. 

But the thing was, the more she tried to focus on the lecture, the more interesting he became. She started to actually listen to his comments, and while they actually  _were_  pretty funny, they were also strangely insightful. Soon enough his mutterings turned into actual conversations with her, and given that they sat in the very last row at the back of the hall, it was easy to get carried away without being shushed by their other peers.

Which led them to where they are now, pressed tight against each other in the corner, his hand under her skirt with his fingers rubbing tight circles against her clit. She learned somewhere along the line that his name was Bellamy, and she panted it into the side of his neck as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. 

Clarke had woken up late for class, and woken up from an amazing dream to boot. She had been on her back on one of the tables in the library with a head of dark curls between her thighs that looked eerily familiar. She had spent the first half of class shifting awkwardly in her seat, trying to focus on the documentary Professor Kane was showing and not give in to her urge to slip her fingers into her underwear and get herself off right there.

Bellamy had realized her plight, much to her embarrassment. He had scooted closer, placed his hand on her thigh, and asked if she trusted him. 

Gulping, Clarke had nodded.

He then asked if he could touch her, his voice gruff and his eyes nearly black with desire. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she whispered. 

And then his warm, calloused hand was moving under her skirt and over her thigh, cupping her mound and making her hiss. He got to work immediately, rubbing her through her underwear until she was soaking the fabric and then slipping his fingers inside. He alternated between rubbing circles against her clit and then pressing hard against it and shaking his hand slightly. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” she hissed when he slipped one finger inside her, crooking it upwards so it hit that sensitive spot inside her. “ _Bellamy, I’m gonna come_.”

Her breathy pants turned into whimpers, and she feared she was going to make a noise loud enough to attract the attention of her classmates. Thankfully, just as she started to feel her orgasm crest inside her, Bellamy turned his head and captured her lips with his, effectively swallowing her moans as her walls clenched around his fingers. 

Clarke slumped against him, sated and shocked. Bellamy chuckled, slipping his hand out from beneath her skirt and wiping it on his jeans. 

“Alright everyone,” Professor Kane said as the documentary came to an end. “I hope you all were paying attention because I’m going to be giving you a little quiz.”

* * *

They were the only people in the class to fail, but they laughed about it over coffee the next day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	47. Princess

**prompt:** "Clarke is the President's daughter and Bellamy is Secret Service."

* * *

“Princess is secure in the castle,” Bellamy says tiredly, “I repeat, Princess is secure in the castle.”

“Copy that,” Miller answers, his voice crackling though Bellamy’s ear piece. “The Queen is on her way.”

“Copy,” Bellamy says, closing the bedroom door behind him with a sigh. He does a sweep of the room before switching off his com and scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“You seem tense,” a teasing voice whispers in his ear. A pair of small, nimble hands slip under his suit jacket and press against his abdomen. “How does a shower sound?”

“Clarke...” Bellamy groans, stepping out of her embrace. “We need to- I can’t-  _Fuck_. This has to stop.”

If this had been the first time they had started this conversation, Clarke would have looked hurt and upset. But it’s not, the tally has gone over ten at this point, and she just crosses her arms over her chest and arches an eyebrow.

“I’m twenty one, Bellamy, I’m not a child. Why can’t you realize that this is oka-”

“It’s not okay!” Bellamy throws his hands up in frustration. “Your mother is the President, Clarke! I’m sworn to protect you. My feelings for you are-”

“Your feelings for me are exactly why this arrangement is perfect.” She pushes him so he falls back onto her bed and then climbs on top of him, sitting on his lap. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” he whispers, his hands coming up to cup the sides of her face. 

“Would you ever let anything happen to me?”

“Never,” he breathes, his eyes darkening.

“Then I don’t think your job is going to suffer much,” Clarke says with a smirk, leaning forward and brushing her lips against his. “I love you, too, Bellamy. I’m in this for the long haul, alright? Are you?”

Bellamy pulls her closer, crushing their lips together in a passionate kiss before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me prompts on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	48. Jeopardy

**prompt:** "Bellarke meeting on _Jeopardy_."

* * *

 

Jasper was certain that this was the first time anyone had worked up a sweat on  _Jeopardy_. The gangly young cameraman had to be reminded several times by his boss that he needed to pan in on all the contestants equally, not just the two who had been using the game as some weird nerdy foreplay all night.

Clarke Griffin was on the far left. She was curvy and blonde and looked very much like she could be royalty, but instead was double-majoring in Biology and Art Therapy at Ark University. On the far right was Bellamy Blake, a tall, broody History major who had been giving her a run for her money all night. Sandwiched between them was a stunning Latina named Raven Reyes who was studying Chemical Engineering and looked like she would rather eat nails than spend another second listening to the other two contestants.

Bellamy and Clarke seemed to have a rivalry since between the show even started. Jasper didn’t know what went down in the dressing rooms beforehand, but it was enough to send both of them out looking surprisingly determined and muttering under their breath. Poor Raven had gotten every question she answered correct, but she was still in last place given that after the second commercial break she gave up trying to buzz in. Before Alex Trebek had even finished the questions, they were buzzing in. Whomever buzzed in first would smirk triumphantly while the other glared at them while they answered. 

It was time for final Jeopardy. The category was Business & Industry.

“ _This automaker introduced the alternator, power steering, and electric ignition_. Thirty seconds on the clock.” 

The contestants immediately started to scribble their answers as the music started to chime. When Alex called the time, Jasper’s boss snapped at him over his headset to get the focus off of Clarke and Bellamy, who were having a staring contest over Raven’s head. 

“Now Bellamy and Clarke, you two are tied for first place with $14,075. Clarke, we’ll start with you.”

Clarke smiled confidently at Alex as he repeated the question.

“ _This automaker introduced the alternator, power steering, and electric ignition_. Clarke, you put...”

The screen revealed Clarke’s perfect cursive reading,  _Who is Henry Ford_?

Alex clucked his tongue sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Clarke, that is incorrect. You wagered...”

Clarke’s grin fell as it is revealed that she bet all $14,075. Her count dropped to $0 and Jasper’s heart sinks. The camera quickly panned to Bellamy, who was looking significantly less excited than he was before.

“Bellamy, you answered...”

His screen revealed his surprisingly neat handwriting.  _Who is Henry Ford?_

Alex sighed. “That is incorrect, I’m afraid. And you wagered...”

Thankfully, Bellamy wasn’t as reckless as Clarke. He had only put $5,000 on the line, which left him with $9,075. He still scowled as Jasper switched the focus to Raven, who was biting back a smile.

“That leaves us with Raven,” Alex said, “who is looking particularly excited. Raven, you currently have $8,300 and your answer is...”

_Who is Chrysler?_

Alex laughed lightly as her messy scrawl appeared. “Chrysler is correct! Let’s see what you wagered.”

_$8,300._

Raven let out a whoop as her total doubled. She beamed at the camera as Alex announced her the winner of the round with a total of $16,600. Jasper kept the camera focused on the contestants until he knew the credits were finished rolling, and then he shut it off and stepped away. Raven was excitedly shaking Alex’s hand and he made a mental note to congratulate her later, but he was focused on sneaking by Bellamy and Clarke, who were awkwardly hanging around Clarke’s booth.

“So, congratulations,” he heard Clarke saying as he passed by. He slowed down his walk to an almost comical pace.

“Thanks. I considered betting everything but then I remembered I’m not a total idiot.”

Clarke chuckled. “Well, lesson learned, I guess. I’m happy for Raven, though. She’s deserves this.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Bellamy said. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, are you doing anything after this? I was just going to get something to eat with my sister but uh, if you want to join us, that’d be cool. If you want.”

Jasper risked a glance over at them to see Clarke biting her lip as she smiled down at her feet. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

Bellamy smiled widely and, perhaps without even realizing it, stepped closer to Clarke. “Great. That’s great.”

Clarke’s cheeks flushed a bit and Jasper looked away, deciding her had intruded enough on their moment. He went back to work the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, but there were never contestants as interesting as those two. He friended them, as well as Raven, on Facebook, and he wasn’t surprised to see the status update one year later.

 _Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake are now engaged_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	49. Strap On

**prompt:** "Ok so you've had Clarke take it up the butt, now how about Bellamy taking it up the butt -- like pegging."

* * *

“Is this okay?”

Clarke grips Bellamy’s thighs as she slowly tilts her hips forward. He is on his back beneath her, his feet flat on the bed and his knees pointed towards the ceiling. She is on her knees between his legs, trying to get used to the reversal of their positions.

“I have done this before, plenty of times. You don’t need to be that gentle,” Bellamy says, propping himself up on his elbows to smirk at her. “Though I do appreciate the concern. Just go slow to start.”

Clarke nods determinedly and thrusts forward slowly, her eyes trained on the thick black strap on between them. It slips deeper inside of him, and she is mesmerized by the sight. She can’t help but wonder if this is how he feels when it’s his cock inside of her.

* * *

She wasn’t oblivious to Bellamy’s sexual history. When he found out she was bi, he gave her a fist bump and told her that he was pan and then asked if she was going to finish her sandwich. She knew that him and Miller had dated for a year or so before graduation and before Monty was in the picture. So when he had asked her day, after a round of lazy, Sunday morning sex, if she would be okay with trying some pegging, she was not surprised.

“Sure,” she had said, yawning. “I don’t have any strap ons, though. Lexa took them when she moved.”

It was only fair, after all. They do anal all the time. It was about time he was on the receiving end. 

Bellamy could only stare at her for a moment before rolling over and pressing her into the mattress with a searing kiss. 

“I’ll buy one.”

* * *

Once she is bottomed out inside of him, Bellamy’s eyes roll back and he groans. 

“Do you need more lube?” she asks, eyeing the bottle on their nightstand. Bellamy huffs out a laugh.

“Don’t unleash all the dirty talk at once.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and looks pointedly down at his cock, hard as a rock against the toned muscles of his abdomen. “I can see it’s really turning you off.”

His large, tanned hand wraps around the base of his cock and he strokes himself as she starts to figure out a rhythm. She had used strap ons before, but she rarely was the one to top. And even when she did, Lexa was considerably smaller than Bellamy and their bodies were able to fit together differently. 

“ _Fuck_ , yeah,” Bellamy moans when she rolls her hips. She does it again, and his grip on his cock tightens. 

“Is that the spot, baby?” she asks breathlessly, repeating the motion. She has heard that the prostate is the equivalent of the male G-spot, and if that’s true, then she figures she can make him come in a matter of seconds. 

“Just like that,” Bellamy mutters. “Yes,  _yes, Clarke, fuck_.”

She starts to scrape her nails along the inside of Bellamy’s thighs, something that always pushes him over the edge when she sucks his cock. Sure enough, seconds later his back arches and he lets out a broken moan, shakily jerking his cock as he comes all over his stomach. 

Clarke waits for his breathing to return to normal before slipping out of him and tossing the strap on to the side. She lays down beside him on the bed and presses a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Do I give Miller a run for his money?” she teases. 

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “There’s not even a competition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come hang with me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	50. Ophelia

**prompt:**  Clarke is blind and meets Bellamy and they fall in love.

* * *

 

It starts with a dog.

Aurora had died three months earlier and Bellamy, just barely nineteen, was struggling to take care of thirteen-year-old Octavia and balance working two jobs. He did  _not_ have time to clean up after a dog, no matter how cute it was. 

But then Octavia brings home a flyer for the Guide Dog Foundation, and a few dozens “ _Please, Bell, it’s only for 15 months and then we give them back_ ” and they are driving home with Ophelia one month later. The yellow lab is the sweetest little thing Bellamy has ever seen, and he’s smitten immediately. The only drawback is that because they are training the puppy to be a guide dog, they can’t treat it the way they would a normal pet. They have to be super diligent with her training so she doesn’t fall into bad habits.

Octavia is surprisingly the best one. Bellamy finds himself often tempted to toss Ophelia extra treats or let her snuggle in bed with him. Octavia is the one who is always making sure they’re being the best trainers they can be. It’s by training Ophelia that he watches his baby sister transform into a confident, assured adult.

When the fifteen months are up, they both feel sick at the thought of the puppy- now a  _dog_ , really- leaving their home. 

“Maybe she’ll be a puppy failure,” Octavia muses one morning over breakfast.

“There is not a puppy in this world that has ever been a failure; they all try their very best,” Bellamy says vehemently.

Octavia rolls her eyes. “A puppy failure is a dog who fails the exam at the end of their training. Most of them go back to live with the people who trained them. Maybe that will happen with Ophelia.”

Bellamy looks down at the lab at his feet and scratches her behind the ears. “We both know that you trained her far too well to fail the test, O,” he says softly. “Besides, there’s someone out there who needs her a lot more than we do.”

* * *

Ophelia passes the test with flying colors, as expected. She is assigned a new owner, a nineteen-year-old girl named Clarke Griffin, who lives three towns over. Bellamy and Octavia pack Ophelia up and drive her out there one Saturday morning, and Octavia sits in the back with Ophelia’s crate the whole way. She doesn’t try to hide her tears, and Bellamy wipes a few of his away as well.

When they pull up to the house, the first thing they notice is that it’s not even a house at all. It’s an  _estate_. There’s even a gate and everything, and they’re buzzed in by a surly guy around Bellamy’s age. They make eye contact, and Bellamy feels his ears get hot when he realizes how attractive the man is. Bellamy quickly gives the man their information and he nods. 

“Clarke? The Blakes are here,” the man says into an intercom. 

A soft, raspy voice responds almost immediately. “Thanks, Miller! Send them through, please.”

The man, Miller, presses a button and the gate swings open. Bellamy mutters his thanks and drives through.

The long driveway extends into a circle in front of the gigantic house, and the front they see two women descending the porch steps. Bellamy parks the car and takes a deep breath before getting out. Octavia stays curled up in the back seat, murmuring to Ophelia.

“Hello,” he says, crossing the driveway to greet the women. “I’m Bellamy Blake. You must be-”

“Dr. Griffin,” the older woman says, shaking his hand tightly, “and this is my daughter, Clarke.”

Clarke sticks her hand out in front of her and Bellamy grabs it. Her grip is as tight as her mother’s, but warmer. While her mother’s screamed dominance, Clarke’s made him feel safe. 

“Hi, Bellamy,” Clarke says. “It’s great to meet you.”

She’s wearing sunglasses, which Bellamy has always known to be the staple of a blind person. Her hair is blonde and cropped just below her shoulders, falling in loose waves. She smiles wide as she talks, and her teeth are the whitest he has ever seen.

“Let’s see the dog, shall we?” Dr. Griffin says. “What did you name it?”

Bellamy watches Clarke’s mouth twitch into a frown before he answers. 

“Uh,  _her_  name is Ophelia. My sister’s with her in the car.” Bellamy looks over his shoulder and waves to his sister. Seconds later the door opens and Octavia pops out, all awkward fifteen-year-old limbs and a shy smile. She gets Ophelia out of her crate and walks her over to where Bellamy is standing. 

Ophelia steps forward and nudges Clarke’s outstretched hand, and she grins. 

“Ophelia is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?” Dr. Griffin remarks. Bellamy bristles, and is about to say something when Clarke buts in.

“She was one of two females in all of  _Hamlet_ ,” Clarke says, “and I read that she was one of two females in her entire litter. Is that why you named her?”

Octavia grins and elbows Bellamy in the side. “She’s just as big of a dork as you, big brother.”

Bellamy playfully shoves Octavia to the side. “Um, yes, actually. It is,” he tells Clarke. 

She can’t see it, but somehow she knows he’s smiling. 

* * *

"My old dog, Anya, was hit by a car,” Clarke explains to him one day, curled up on his couch. “She pushed me out of the way and saved my life.”

After leaving her with Ophelia, Bellamy had gotten a phone call from an unknown number. When he answered, it was Clarke, and she said she was hoping that they could work out some sort of visitation schedule because “Ophelia seems quite attached to you two and I would hate to deprive her of that.”

So that’s how Bellamy ended driving up to the Griffin estate every Saturday and picking up two beautiful blondes for the day. They have been doing this for three months now, and he is completely head over heels. He finds himself thinking about Clarke throughout the week, just aching to hear her voice again. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, reaching out and grasping her hand. “How long did you have her?”

Clarke has long discarded her sunglasses, and her piercing blue eyes stare just to the right of his head. “Five years. She was my first. I lost my sight when I was thirteen. There was an accident in my dad’s lab when he brought me to work one day. I was too close. He was even closer.”

“Clarke, I-” Bellamy starts, but Clarke squeezes his hand and shushes him.

“It’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it. Besides, it might be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“How do you figure that?” Bellamy asks, dubious. Clarke leans forward and the hand that was gripping his skates up his arm to cup his cheek.

“It led me to you,” she says softly. 

She kisses him then, finally, and from her place on the floor by their feet, Ophelia barks her approval. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come freak out over season 3 with me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	51. First Time

prompt: "Bellarke with Clarke having sex for the first time" + "realistic smut"

* * *

“Ow.  _Ow_. Bellamy, my hair.”

“Shit, sorry.”

Bellamy rolls to the side as Clarke gathers her hair and ties it into a messy bun. Satisfied, she flops back down on the mattress and grins. 

“Carry on.”

He shifts so his body is on top of hers again, kissing her gently, one hand cupping her face and the other stroking the skin of her hip. Both of their shirts are long gone, as are his pants. He starts to unbutton hers, but it proves to be increasingly difficult to do so with only one hand, so he pulls back sheepishly and finally works the clasp open. 

Bellamy manages to drag her pants halfway down her legs, but they get caught bunched around her ankles, and she leans forward to pull them off just as he does, and their foreheads smash together. 

Clarke sees stars, and not a good way. She recoils, rubbing her head with a hiss. 

“Are you okay? Fuck, Clarke, I’m sorry,” Bellamy whispers, covering her hand with his own and pressing a soft kiss to her head. She releases a deep breath and nods, tipping her head back so that their lips meet. 

Gently, he presses her back into the mattress, keeping their lips fused together. He rids them of the rest of their clothes without further injury, and she guides his hand between her legs, showing him how to work her until she is wet and keening. 

Finally, they manage to come together. It’s a little awkward, at first; they can’t quite figure out a rhythm and the stretch is a bit more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but they make it work. Bellamy is the first to finish, pressing his face into Clarke’s neck as he lets out a strangled groan. He rolls off of her after a minute and snakes a hand between her legs, rubbing her to completion as he laves at her breasts. 

“That was good,” Clarke says, propping herself up on her elbow to smile at him. 

“Next time,” Bellamy says with a wink, “I promise will be  _much_  better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	52. Period Cramps

**prompt:** "Could you write a one shot where Clarke is on her period and Bellamy is super sweet with her. Buying her candies and rubbing her back etc..."

* * *

 

She is barely through the door before her heels are being kicked clear across the living room and her keys are being tossed into the lopsided bowl on the counter near the door, a product of the one and only pottery class Bellamy took two years earlier. No sooner does the metal  _clink_  in the bowl does the shrill ringing of her phone sound from her purse.

“Hey,” Clarke sighs when she answers, padding across the living room to pick up her shoes and heading to the bedroom. 

“Hey, how did the presentation go?” Bellamy asks. There is muffled noise behind him, most likely the hubbub of the subway as he makes his way home. 

Clarke groans. She tucks her shoes into the closet and collapses onto the bed. “The presentation itself went great. I think Lincoln’s testimony really helped sell it.”

“I sense a  _but coming up.”_

“ _But_  I got my period this morning, and by the time I had to give the presentation it felt like uterus was going to fall out of my ass,” Clarke grumbled, never one to mince words. 

Bellamy chuckles at her choice of phrase, but turns concerned nonetheless. “How are you feeling now? Do you need me to get anything for you?”

“No,” Clarke says, smiling softly, “my arsenal is still fully stocked from last month. I may never need to buy tampons again.”

A few weeks prior, she had the flu and her period at the same time, and it was arguably the worst five days of her life. It was made even worse when she discovered that somehow she was down to her last tampon, with not even a maxi pad to spare. Bellamy had already been an anxious mother hen after watching her throw up nonstop for two days, and when she asked him to run out and get some for her, he had returned with  _thirteen boxes_  altogether of every feminine product known to humankind. 

“Never going to let me live that down,” Bellamy murmurs. “But really, Clarke. Do you have ibuprofen?”

Clarke drags herself off the bed to get her heating pad as she assures Bellamy that  _yes, she has ibuprofen_  and  _yes, she ate today_  and  _no, she doesn’t want to use his weird foot massager even if hers are killing her_. 

As she sets herself up with the heating pad on the couch, queuing up the episode of  _Masters of None_  she had fallen asleep during the night before, she tells him about her presentation. 

Clarke is an art therapist who works out of Mount Weather Teaching Hospital. She’s been pushing for an expansion for one of her treatment programs, the one that focuses on addiction drug-related violence, and the hospital board had finally agreed to hear her pitch. Her argument was solid, and she believes that she would have won them over by herself, but it was the added testimony of her friend and colleague, Dr. Lincoln Janti, that really won them over.

Back when he was still dating Octavia, six months after Clarke started at the hospital, Lincoln confessed to being addicted to a variant of heroin, a street drug called The Red. With Clarke’s help, he overcame the addiction and now splits his work between the pediatric unit and helping her with her treatments. 

So, altogether it looks promising. But I’ll tell you more when you get home.” Clarke frowns, glancing at the clock in the cable box. “When  _are_  you getting home? I thought you were on your way like twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m in the lobby now,” Bellamy tells her. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Make it forty-five seconds,” Clarke teases.

Sure enough, less than a minute later the front door of their apartment swings open. Clarke peeks over the edge of the couch to see Bellamy toe off his shoes next to the door, a plastic bag in each hand. 

“I need kisses,” Clarke mumbles from her cocoon of blankets. Pouting comically when he looks at her, Bellamy comes to sit at her side and presses a tender kiss to her lips.

“Tell me what hurts, baby.”

“It’s my back and my stomach bu- oooh!”

Her words cut off when Bellamy unveils what was in the bags: two full size bags of Kit Kats, a bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and a can of Arizona ice tea- her favorites. 

“Oh my God,” she moans, throwing one arm around his neck and using her free hand to snatch the bag of Kit Kats. “I could cry. You are my favorite person ever.”

Bellamy chuckles and starts to peel away her blankets. Clarke devours four Kit Kats and gulps about half of the iced tea before he stops her. 

“Roll onto your stomach,” he tells her, adjusting her heating pad so when she lays down it is pressed directly over her midsection. He lifts her legs so that they’re spread across his lap and bunches her shirt up around her shoulder blades, exposing her bare lower back to him.

“ _Yes_ ,” she moans as he starts to massage the tender skin. “That feels perfect, Bell. Thank you.”

He drops one hand to start the episode, and Aziz Ansari’s voice fills the room. “You gonna stay awake this time? This episode is a good one,” he teases. But Clarke is already fading fast. By the time the opening credits start, she is almost totally limp. 

“I love you so much,” she murmurs into the pillow, on the verge of sleep.

Bellamy dips his head down to press a kiss to her back. “I love you, too, Clarke.”

She starts snoring just a few seconds later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come freak out over the season 3 trailer with me on tumblr!!!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	53. Locations

**prompt:** "Could you please write a fic about Bellamy eating Clarke out in various positions and areas?"

* * *

It’s hard to keep your private life private when the only thing separating you from everyone else is the thin canvas of your tent, which offers absolutely no soundproofing. This means that all escapades of the intimate and sexual variety are normally held in the light of day, when there is enough commotion to drown of the sounds of stifled moans and gasps. 

The first time he gets his mouth on her they are in his bed, and it is just after midnight. Clarke has the corner of one of his furs clenched between her teeth to muffle the sounds she makes as he eats her cunt like it’s his last meal. He comes seconds after she does, unable to stop himself from humping the mattress when the combination of her moans and her taste proves to be too much. 

Next he corners her in the med bay at lunch. After giving Miller strict orders not to let anyone near the ( _finally_ ) empty quarters, he sinks to his knees in front of her and teases her clit with soft licks until her fingers are wound tightly in his hair, pulling him closer, and she is begging _please, Bellamy, more_. 

The time in the conference room is risky. Clarke is bent over the table, her flushed face pressed against the cool metal as Bellamy’s tongue fucks into her, his big hands spreading over the supple skin of her ass and giving it a hard squeeze. 

“Gotta be a bit quieter for me, baby,” he whispers against her cunt after a particularly loud moan reverberates around the room.

“Bullshit. You want me- _ah_ \- you want me to be loud,” Clarke gasps as he replaces his tongue with his fingers, crooking them towards the sensitive spot inside her. 

“Very true. If it were up to me, I’d have you screaming so loud they could hear you back in Polis.” Bellamy smirks. “But I also don’t want all of camp to hear the sweet sounds that you make for me.”

Clarke glances over her shoulder at him and wiggles her ass impatiently. “Enough talking. I wanna come.”

His answer is a hard, stinging slap against her right ass cheek that makes her shriek.

Their most exciting time is probably the night of the Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year calls for more moonshine than they can take, and by the time nightfalls most of the camp is drunk off their asses. It is easy to slip away from the group and find their special spot by the lake.

Bellamy lies flat on his back on a particularly smooth rock by the bank of the lake. Clarke is crouched on top of him, her pussy level with his mouth as she bends forward to take his cock in hers. They had only tried this position a handful of times before, so it takes a bit of maneuvering, but eventually they work the kinks out. 

“ _Fuck_ , why don’t we do this more often?” Clarke asks, breathless, stroking his cock with her right hand while her left teases his balls.

“Are you referring to the position or the location?” Bellamy responds, slipping two fingers inside of her wet heat. Clarke keens.

“Both.”

“You know the good thing about being alone all the way out here?”

Clarke’s grip on his cock starts to slacken as she nears her peak. “W-what?”

He uses his thumb to rub her clit, and she shudders. “You can be as loud as you want.”

The sounds of her screams echo over the land as she comes, and Bellamy swears it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	54. The Conversation

**prompt:** "Bellarke trapped in a cave with one sleeping bag and they are drenched so they have to share naked + Bellamy has a huge boner that Clarke is really into."

* * *

It’s their first mission together since her return, and although they’ve been talking on a semi-regular basis, things are still tense. They aren’t how they used to be, before she left. They talk, but they say nothing. 

The first crack happens when the clouds roll in. Bellamy wants to head back to camp, stating that they aren’t prepared for the rain. Clarke disagrees, insisting that they chart this the territory before the rain washes away the tracks they had been following. They glare at each other for a minute before Bellamy barks at the rest of their crew to head back to camp, grumbling that he’ll stay behind and make sure Clarke doesn’t do anything stupid.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” she snaps.

“I don’t know, run away again?”

Crack number two. 

Clarke narrows her eyes. “Fuck you.”

They track the prints in a heated silence for the next ten minutes, until the clouds turn so dark that it looks like it’s nearly the middle of the night instead of just after noon. Bellamy is about to open his mouth, to tell Clarke that like it or not they need to find shelter immediately, that they’re too far gone from camp by now and it’s going to fucking pour any second and-

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she says, whirling around to poke him firmly in the middle of his chest. 

He blinks. “Me?”

“Yes, _you_. You’ve been distant ever since I got back, Bellamy. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” he snaps. “I’ve been distant because I wanted to stop _this_ from happening.”

That is the third crack, and the dam breaks.

“What is ‘ _this_ ’? Us actually having a fucking real conversation?”

“You want to have a conversation? Let’s have a goddamn conversation, Clarke.” The clouds open up and raindrops start to fall slowly, seeping into their clothing. “You. Left.”

“I couldn’t face them-”

“You. Left. Me.” Bellamy scrubs a hand over his face. “You left _me_ , Clarke. I needed you. Fuck, I still need you. But you didn’t stay.”

The rain is coming down heavier now, so hard it almost hurts as it soaks deep into their skin. Clarke wipes the wetness away from her eyes, though they are already blurry with tears. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” she chokes out. “I know you needed me but I was selfish and I still left. But I’m here now, because of you. _You_ brought me back, Bellamy. And I’m not going to leave again.”

Bellamy looks at her, really looks at her, for the first time since she came back. His curls are matted and stuck to his head, and he’s squinting to keep the rain out of his eyes, but she feels his gaze pierce straight through her. 

“Alright, Clarke,” he says softly. He shrugs an arm over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of the rain, yeah?”

The end up in a small cave about half a mile away, soaked to the bone and shivering. Bellamy starts a small fire while Clarke tries to find some clothes from their packs that aren’t waterlogged. 

“No use,” Bellamy grunts, nodding towards the waterproof sleeping bags Clarke had tossed aside. “It’s best to just let everything dry by the fire while we warm up.”

They both make it a point _not_ to look at each other while they strip down, but the flush on Clarke’s face when she stuffs herself into her sleeping bag lets Bellamy know that she definitely saw _something_. 

“I t-thought these were th-thermal,” Clarke stutters through chattering teeth after a few minutes. 

“They are,” Bellamy says, “but we’re not giving off enough body heat to warm them up.”

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut. “Okay. C-come in.”

Bellamy takes a deep breath before hopping out and sliding into Clarke’s. She doesn’t open her eyes until he zips it up behind him, then she turns and burrows into his chest, her body trembling violently. 

“You’re a-allowed to t-touch me, Bellamy,” Clarke says, pressing her frozen nose against his collarbone. He gulps as he feels her bare breasts against his chest. Thankfully, his dick is still frozen, so he doesn’t have to worry about an awkward boner stabbing Clarke in the stomach. 

“Good to know,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her closer. They both doze off within minutes of each other.

Clarke is the first to wake, hours later. The fire is roaring in the corner of the cave, and she is _hot_. A thick sheen of sweat sticks to her skin, but it’s not what catches her attention. 

Bellamy’s cock is hard against her stomach, and while they were sleeping their positions shifted so now his leg was wedged between hers, his thick thigh pressing against her core.

She lays there frozen, unsure of what to do. She keeps her eyes firmly trained on the tan skin of his chest, but she desperately wants to peel back the sleeping bag and take a glance at their naked bodies entwined. 

 _Fuck_ just the thought of it makes her wet. 

Bellamy sighs and shifts in his sleep, pulling her closer to him. His leg moves just a tiny bit, but the friction and the feel of his coarse hairs against her pussy makes Clarke gasp, clutching at his arms. 

She makes her decision then.

Slowly, she grinds up against him. Her clit rubs deliciously against his thigh, and her stomach presses harder against the length of his cock. Bellamy groans in his sleep, and she does it again.

“Clarke…” he mumbles, his voice thick and heavy with sleep. She grinds against him again, and his eyes shoot open. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns.

Clarke grins. “If I have it my way, we’re both going to finish.”

Bellamy growls, flipping them over so that she is on her back beneath them. The sleeping bag is tight, and there isn’t much room for movement, but Clarke doesn’t mind. They are pressed together at practically every point of their bodies, and she loves that she can feel every hard, muscled inch of him. 

“You sure about this?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone. 

Clarke nods, her hands slipping down to stroke his cock. His eyes roll back when she rubs the head over her entrance, gathering the wetness there. She arches her hips, desperate to take him inside of her. 

“Wait.” Bellamy leans down so that his nose brushes hers. “We haven’t even kissed yet, Clarke.”

“Just for the record,” she whispers, “this is me giving you permission to kiss me _when_ ever, _how_ ever,and   _where_ ver you want.” She punctuates each word with a kiss down the length of his jaw. 

Bellamy smirks. “Good to know.”

Their lis touch for the first time as he slides his cock inside her. He will never forget the way she bit his lip when he bottomed out inside her, how she let out a breathy sigh that he felt from his hair to his toes. They don’t stop kissing as he slowly starts to fuck her, rocking into her gently with shallow thrusts. He alternates between short, tender pecks and long, languid kisses that leave both of them breathless. He doesn’t intend to stop until Clarke pulls away and takes his face between her hands.

“I’m not going to break,” she tells him sternly, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts, making him go deeper inside of her. They both gasp at the feeling. 

“Bellamy.”

He looks up from where they are joined to meet her heated gaze. 

“Fuck me like you mean it.”

That is all the encouragement he needs. 

“Shit, Clarke,” he moans, slightly adjusting their position so he has more leverage to fuck her. She keens when he fucks into her hard, and he feels the walls of her cunt clench around him. “ _Fuck, baby, I can feel your pussy around my cock. So fucking tight. So good, baby. You’re so good_.”

“Keep talking to me,” Clarke pants, snaking one hand down her body to rub furiously at her clit. The other hand is firmly planted at the base of his neck, holding his face close to hers.

“That doing it for you?” he teases with a wink. “ _You like hearing me talk about how tight your sweet cunt is, baby? So tight and wet for me. So goddamn wet, Clarke. I can’t wait to taste you_.”

“Oh my God.” Clarke throws her head back, and Bellamy ducks down to press hard, open mouthed kisses to her glorious tits. 

“I’m gonna learn your whole body, Clarke,” he swears, relishing in the feeling of her cunt tightening around his cock. He’s damn near close to what will probably be the most intensive orgasm of his life thus far, and he’s hell bent on taking Clarke with him. “ _I’m going to spend hours worshipping these beautiful tits. I’m going to eat your sweet pussy for so long you won’t remember anyone else’s face between your legs_.”

“Bellamy, I’m close!” Clarke shrieks, removing her hand from her clit to join her other at the base of his neck, pulling him closer to her. “ _Fuck! Just like that! I’m gonna come! I’m gonna_ -”

She lets out a beautiful, ragged scream as he orgasm tears her apart. Bellamy can barely hold on long enough to watch her tremble beneath him before his own release, white hot flames licking up his spine as he spills himself deep inside of her. He collapses half on his side and half on top of her, his breathing ragged.

Clarke’s breaths come in gasps as she bonelessly curls up beside him, her back flush against his chest. Bellamy throws an arm over her waist, tugging her closer.

“We’re doing things together from now own, deal?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

Clarke reaches down and weaves her fingers through his. 

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come join me on tumblr and celebrate season 3!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	55. Against the Wall

**prompt:** "Could you PLEASE write some Bellarke smut centered around Bellamy's dirty talk?? So help me that DOES IT for me."

* * *

A half-eaten pizza pie is left forgotten on the kitchen table. Reruns of the office play in the background as Bellamy and Clarke lounge on the couch. 

Or perhaps _lounge_ isn’t the right word for it.

_“Oh, fuck me.”_

Clarke drops his cock from her mouth with a _pop_ and smiles coyly. She wraps her fist around him and strokes him lazily. 

“In due time.”

He knots his fingers into her hair and moves her mouth back to his dick, groaning as she licks a hard stripe up his shaft. Clarke winks as she deep throats him, and he swears.

“You’re so good at this,” Bellamy groans. “You make me feel like a goddamn teenager again, gonna make me come so fast with your pretty little mouth. _Fuck_.”

Clarke slips one hand between her legs and taps lightly on her clit, still sensitive from the two orgasms Bellamy’s mouth had brought her to just moments earlier. 

“You ready for more?” He pushes lightly at her shoulder and she releases him with a gasp. “I see you touching yourself, baby. Do you want me to fuck you now?”

Clarke nods, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. They attempt to make it to their bedroom, but Bellamy ends up pressing her against the wall in the hallway. He grabs both of her wrists in one hand and pins them against the wall above them, biting roughly at the skin of her neck as he thrusts into her from behind. 

“Oh, _yes_ , Bellamy,” Clarke groans. She bites her lip and looks over her shoulder at him, loving the way his grip on her tightens when they lock eyes. “I love it when you fuck me like this.”

“Yeah, I know you do, baby,” he growls. “Fuck, you’re so tight like this. You gonna come for me while I fuck you up against the wall?”

Clarke hesitates. “I- _fuck_ -I don’t know if I can.”

It happens sometimes, after he makes her come multiple times. She’ll still have enough energy and drive to keep going, but she’s too sensitive to come again. She doesn’t mind it, honestly. The feel of Bellamy enjoying her body brings her enough pleasure on its own.

But he doesn’t seem to want to accept that answer right now. 

“You can. Yes, you can,” he grunts. A hand snakes around to press two fingers firmly against her clit, not rubbing or tapping, just enough steady pressure to bring her a little bit closer to the edge. “You’re gonna give me one more, Clarke.”

He starts to thrust harder, and Clarke knows it’s partially in an attempt to bring her closer and also because his orgasm is quickly approaching. 

“I want to feel you come on my cock. I got to feel you on my tongue earlier and _fuck_ , baby, that was like heaven. You taste so good I can’t get enough. But I need to feel your pussy come all over my cock. Can you do that for me?” Bellamy pants, nipping at her ear. He presses her closer to the wall, and her bare breasts rub deliciously against it. 

“I think you can, baby. I can feel your cunt getting all tight around my dick. What do you need? Tell me what you need, beautiful.”

Clarke gasps for breath, her legs starting to shake. “I want you to hold me.”

Bellamy softens, but only for a moment before he resumes fucking her with vigor. He lets go of her wrists to wrap his other arm around her torso, crushing her to his chest. 

“Is this good, Clarke? You want me to hold you when you fall apart? I’ll never let go of you, baby. Shit. _Shit,_ you’re close. I can feel it. Come on, Clarke, be a good girl and give me another one, yeah?” 

That sends her over the edge. She crumples in his arms, screaming his name as he fucks her through her orgasm. He whispers in her ear that she’s so good, such a good girl for coming for him, that she’s so gorgeous and he loves to hear her fall apart. 

He comes seconds after she does, and together they fall to the floor, sated and exhausted. They’re both sweaty and their limbs are entangled, but neither one feels like moving just yet.

“Is this ever _not_ going to feel amazing?” Clarke breathes, brushing her hair out of her face. 

Bellamy grins. 

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that marks the end of this fic! I will be filling all other tumblr prompts as individual fics instead of a multi-chapter fic like this one, so if you want to read more of my writing then put me on your author alerts!
> 
> come find me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


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